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READINGS   rOU   THE  YOUNG, 

FROM  THE 

WORKS   OF  SIR   WALTER   SCOTT. 

■/ 

IN     TWO    VOLUMES. 

WITH  PLATES. 


VOLUME     II. 

HISTORICAL    AND    ROMANTIC    NARRATIVES, 
•  AND 

SCOTTISH    SCENES    AND    CHARACTERS. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

LEA    AND     BLANCHARD. 

1848. 


PHILADELPHIA  : 

T.  K.  AND  P.   G.  COLLINS, 

PKINTERS. 


CONTENTS   OF   VOL.   II. 


HISTORICAL  AND  ROMANTIC  NARRATIVES. 

Prince  Charles  Edward  in  Holtrood  Palace. 

Waverley,  9 
March  of  the  Highland  Armt  from  Edinburgh. 

Ibid.  17 

Battle  of  Preston.     Ibid.    -         -         -         •         -         •  21 

Sentence  and  Death  of  Fergus  MacItor.     Ibid.          -  29 

MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

Time.     Guy  Mannering, 40 

The  Voyage  of  Life.     Chronicles  of  the  Canongate,           -  41 

Duty  and  Happiness.     Pirate,       .....  42 

Superstitious  Feeling.     Miscell.  Criticism,    -         -         -  ib. 

Desultory  Reading.      Waverley,             ....  43 

Moonlight.     Kenilworth,        ......  ib. 

Love  and  Marriage.    Redgauntlet,         ....  44 

First  Dawn  of  Daylight.     Kenilworth,         ...  45 

Solitude  and  Society.     Diary  in  Life  of  Scott,       -         .  ib. 

The  Common  Lot  of  Mankind.     Abbot,         ...  45 

Music.     Diary,      ........  ib. 

Painting.     Ibid.             .......  47 

Dispatch  in  Business.     Letter  in  Life  of  Scott,        -         -  49 

Real  and  Imaginary  Ills.     Ibid.            ....  50 

Oriental  Anecdote.     Ibid.           ....  ib: 


IV  CONTENTS. 

TnADiTiox.     Notes  to  Abbot, 51 

Absurd  Desire  for  Umformitt. 

Letters  on  the  Currency,  ib. 

Improvement  and  Innovation      Ibid.            ...  53 

Experience  and  Theory.     Ibid.             ....  ib. 

Rapid  Improvement  in  Scotland.      Wavcrley,       -         -  ib. 

Advice  TO  A  Son.     Letters  in  Life  of  Scott,       ...  55 

Classical  Studies.     Ibid. 60 

POETRY. 

Gatherinr  OF  Clan  Alpine.     Lady  of  the  Lake,    -         -  62 

Death  of  Roderick  Dhu.     Ibid. 66 

The  Coronach.     Ibid. 67 

Cadtow  Castle — Death  of  the  Regent  Murray. 

Ballads,  68 

Pibroch  of  Donald  Dhu.     Ibid. 79 

Tropical  Sunset.     Rokeby,             .....  80 

Moonlight  Vikw  of  the  Camp  and  BuryingGround 

AT  ToLEno.      Vision  of  Don  Roderick,         -         •         -  81 

Laniiing  of  the  British  Army  in  Portugal.     Ibid.      -  83 

Chiustmas.     Marmion,            ......  85 

Battle  of  Flodden,  and  Death  of  Marmion.     Ibid.     •  88 

SELECT  MOTTOES  AND  IMAGES,                  -            -            -  95 

SCOTTISH  SCENES  AND  CHARACTERS. 

Rob  Roy.     Introduction  to  Rob  Roy,          ....  IQI 
Bailie  NicoL  J  ARviE  at  Aberfoil — Fray  at  the  Change- 
House.     Rob  Roy, 108 

Intkrview  with  Helen  MacGregor.     Ibid.          -         -  120 

Meeting  of  Rob  Rot  and  Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie.     Ibid.  125 
Funeral  OasEauiEs  of  Lord  Ravenswood. 

Bride  of  Lammermoor,  133 
Ravenswood's  Last  Interview  with  Lucy  Ashton. 

Ibid.  141 


CONTENTS.  V 

BniDAL  anh  Death  of  Lucy  Ashton.     Ibid.            -         •  150 
Jeanie  ANn  Effie  Deans — Mekting  of  the  Sisteus  be- 
fore Effie's  Trial.     Heart  of  ]\lid  Lothian,     -         -  158 

Trial  of  Effie  Deans.     IbiJ. 162 

Jeaxie  Procures   her   Sisters   Pardox  tiiom  Queen- 
Caroline.     Ibid.     -         -         -         -         -         -         -  1S3 

Charlies-Hope — the  Farm  of  Dandie  Dixmont. 

Gvy  Mannering,  104 

Fox  Hunt  and  Salmon  Spearing  in  Liddesdale.    Ibid.  200 
Night  Attack  of  the  Smugglers  at  Porranferbt. 

Ibid.  208 
High  Jinks — A  Scottish  Lawyer  of  the  Old  School. 

Ibid.  217 
The  ANTiauART  ox  the  High  Street  of  Edinburgh. 

The  Antiquary,  226 
Storm  and  Perilous  Situation  bt  the  Sea-side. 

Ibid.  234 

FiSHERWOMAN.      Ibid.     -          -          -          -          -          -          -  2-'0 

The  Young  Fisherman's  Funeral.     Ibid.     •         -         -  203 
Scenes  at  Abbotsford — The    Flitting:    Rural  Em- 

PL0T3IENTS  :    HoGMANAX  :    DeATH  OF  LaDT  ScOTT. 

Letters  and  Diary,  266 

MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

Education  OF  THE  Heart.     Life  of  Scott,       -         -         -  274 

Female  Purity.     Miscell.  Criticism,         ....  275 

Autumnal  Scenery.     St.  Ronans  Well,          ...  276 

Solemn  Reflection.     Heart  of  Mid-Lothian,           -         -  277 

Fortitude  AND  Perseverance.     Letter  in  Life  of  Scott,  278 

Longevity.     Ibid.           .......  279 

The  Young  and  Old.     Diary,        .....  ib. 

Englishman's  Love  of  Grumbling.     Miscell.  Criticism,  280 

Irish  Wit,  Good  Humor,  and  Absurdity.     Diary,        -  282 

Retired  Soldiers.     Guy  Mannc7-i7ig,      ....  283 

Remarkable  Instance  OF  Courage.     Life  of  Scott,         -  284 
Gref.n-Breeks — Anecdote  of  School  Days. 

General  Preface  to  Novels,  ib- 


VI  CONTENTS. 


POETRY. 


St.  Mart's  Lake.     Marmion, 289 

Earlt  Feelings — Smailholm  Tower.     Ibid.         -         -  291 

The  Trosachs  and  Loch  Katrine.     Lady  of  the  Lake,  •  293 

LYRICAL  PIECES. 

LocHiNVAH.     Marmion,            ......  297 

Mackrimmon's  Lament.     Lyrical  and  Miscell.  Poems,      -  299 
The  Heath  this  Night  must  be  mt  Bed. 

Lady  of  the  Lake,  300 
Lullaby  of  an  Infant  Chief. 

Lyrical  and  Miscell.  Poems,  301 

Jock  of  Hazeldean.     Ibid. 302 

The  Sun  upon  the  Weirdlaav  Hill.     Ibid.            -         -  303 

A  Weakt  Lot  is  thine,  Fair  Maid.     Rokeby,       -         -  304 

Countt  Gut.     Qucntin  Durward,   .         .        -        -        •  305 

Love  Wakes  and  Weeps.    Pirate,          .         .         .         .  ib. 

Farewell!  Farewell,  the  Voice  tou  Hear.     Ibid.    -  306 

The  Lat  of  Poor  Louise.     Fair  Maid  of  Perth,     -         -  307 

An  Hour  with  Thee.     Woodstock,         ....  308 

SELECT  MOTTOES  AND  IMAGES,            ....  309 


HISTORICAL 


AND 


ROMANTIC  NAEEATIYES, 


READINGS  FOR  THE  YOUNG. 


HISTORICAL  AND  ROMANTIC  NARRATIVES. 


PRINCE   CHARLES   EDWARD 

IN  HOLYROOD  PALACE. 

As  they  approached  the  metropolis  of  Scotland, 
through  a  champaign  and  cultivated  country,  the  sounds 
of  war  began  to  be  heard.  The  distant,  yet  distinct 
report  of  heavy  cannon,  fired  at  intervals,  apprised 
Waverley  that  the  work  of  destruction  was  going  for- 
ward. Even  Balmawhapple  seemed  moved  to  take 
some  precautions,  by  sending  an  advanced  party  in  front 
of  his  troop,  keeping  the  main  body  in  tolerable  order, 
and  moving  steadily  forward. 

Marching  in  this  manner,  they  speedily  reached  an 
eminence,  from  which  they  could  view  Edinburgh 
stretching  along  the  ridgy  hill  which  slopes  eastward 
from  the  Castle.  The  latter,  being  in  a  state  of  siege, 
or  rather  of  blockade,  by  the  northern  insurgents,  who 
had  already  occupied  the  town  for  two  or  three  days, 
fired  at  intervals  upon  such  parties  of  Highlanders  as 
exposed  themselves,  either  on  the  main  street,  or  else- 

VOL.  II. — 2 


iO  PRINCE  CHARLES  EDWARD 

where  in  the  vicinity  of  the  fortress.  The  morning 
being  cahn  and  fair,  the  effect  of  this  dropping  fire  was 
to  invest  the  Castle  in  wreaths  of  smoke,  the  edges  of 
which  dissipated  slowly  in  the  air,  while  the  central 
veil  was  darkened  ever  and  anon  by  fresh  clouds  poured 
forth  from  the  battlements ;  the  whole  giving,  by  the 
partial  concealment,  an  appearance  of  grandeur  and 
gloom,  rendered  more  terrific  when  Waverley  reflected 
on  the  cause  by  which  it  was  produced,  and  that  each 
explosion  might  ring  some  brave  man's  knell. 

Ere  they  approached  the  city,  the  partial  cannonade 
had  wholly  ceased.  Balmawhapple,  however,  having 
in  his  recollection  the  unfriendly  greeting  which  his 
troop  had  received  from  the  battery  at  Stirling,  had  ap- 
parently no  wish  to  tempt  the  forbearance  of  the  artil- 
lery of  the  Castle.  He  therefore  left  the  direct  road, 
and  sweeping  considerably  to  the  southward,  so  as  to 
keep  out  of  the  range  of  the  cannon,  approached  the 
ancient  palace  of  Holyrood,  without  having  entered  the 
walls  of  the  city.  He  then  drew  up  his  men  in  front 
of  that  venerable  pile,  and  delivered  Waverley  to  the 
custody  of  a  guard  of  Highlanders,  whose  officers  con- 
ducted him  into  the  interior  of  the  building. 

A  long,  low,  and  ill-proportioned  gallery,  hung  with 
pictures,  affirmed  to  be  the  portraits  of  kings,  who,  if 
they  ever  flourished  at  all,  lived  several  hundred  years 
before  the  invention  of  painting  in  oil-colors,  served  as 
a  sort  of  guard-chamber,  or  vestibule,  to  the  apartments 
which  the  adventurous  Charles  Edward  now  occupied 
in  the  palace  of  his  ancestors.  Officers,  both  in  the 
Highland  and  Lowland  garb,  passed  and  repassed  in 
haste,  or  loitered  in  the  hall,  as  if  waiting  for  orders. 


IN  HOLYROOD  PALACE.  11 

Secretaries  were  engaged  in  making  out  passes,  musters, 
and  returns.  All  seemed  busy,  and  earnestly  intent 
upon  something  of  importance;  but  Waverley  was  suf- 
fered to  remain  seated  in  the  recess  of  a  window,  un- 
noticed by  any  one,  in  anxious  reflection  upon  the  crisis 
of  his  fate,  which  seemed  now  rapidly  approaching. 

While  he  was  deep  sunk  in  his  reverie,  the  rustle  of 
tartans  was  heard  behind  him,  a  friendly  arm  clasped 
his  shoulders,  and  a  friendly  voice  exclaimed, 

"Said  the  Highland  prophet  sooth?  Or*  must  se- 
cond sight  go  for  nothing?" 

Waverley  turned,  and  was  warmly  embraced  by  Fer- 
gus Maclvor.  "  A  tliousand  welcomes  to  Holyrood, 
once  more  possessed  by  her  legitimate  sovereign!" 

"  Dear  Fergus  !"  said  Waverley,  eagerly  returning  his 
greeting,  "  it  is  long  since  I  have  heard  a  friend's  voice. 
Where  is  Flora?" 

"Safe,  and  a  triumphant  spectator  of  our  success; 
but  first  you  must  meet  a  friend  whom  you  little  think 
of,  who  has  been  frequent  in  his  inquiries  after  you." 

Thus  saying,  he  dragged  Waverley  by  the  arm  out 
of  the  guard-chamber,  and,  ere  he  knew  where  he  was 
conducted,  Edward  found  himself  in  a  presence-room, 
fitted  up  with  some  attempt  at  royal  state. 

A  young  man,  wearing  his  own  fair  hair,  distinguished 
by  the  dignity  of  his  mien  and  the  noble  expression  of 
his  well-formed  and  regular  features,  advanced  out  of  a 
circle  of  military  gentlemen  and  Highland  chiefs,  by 
whom  he  was  surrounded.  In  his  easy  and  graceful 
manners,  Waverley  afterwards  thouglit  he  could  have 
discovered  his  high  birth  and  rank,  although   the   star 


12  PRINCE  CHARLES  EDWARD 

on  his  breast,  and  the  embroidered  garter  at  his  knee, 
had  not  appeared  as  its  indications. 

"Let  me  present  to   your  Royal  Highness,"  said 
Fergus,  bowing  profoundly 

"  The  descendant  of  one  of  the  most  ancient  and 
loyal  families  in  England,"  said  the  young  Chevalier, 
interrupting  him.  "  I  beg  your  pardon  for  interrupting 
you,  my  dear  Maclvor  ;  but  no  master  of  ceremonies 
is  necessary  to  present  a  Waverley  to  a  Stuart." 

Thus  saying,  he  extended  his  hand  to  Edward  with 
the  utmost  courtesy,  who  could  not,  had  he  desired  it, 
have  avoided  rendering  him  the  homage  which  seemed 
due  to  his  rank,  and  was  certainly  the  right  of  his  birth. 
"I  am  sorry  to  understand,  Mr.  Waverley,  that,  owing 
to  circumstances  which  have  been  as  yet  but  ill  ex- 
plained, you  have  suffered  some  restraint  among  my 
followers  in  Perthshire,  and  on  your  march  here  ;  but 
we  are  in  such  a  situation  that  we  hardly  know  our 
friends,  and  I  am  even  at  this  moment  uncertain  whether 
I  can  have  the  pleasure  of  considering  Mr.  Waverley  as 


amons  mine." 


He  then  paused  for  an  instant;  but  before  Edward 
could  adjust  a  suitable  reply,  or  even  arrange  his  ideas 
as  to  its  purport,  the  Prince  took  out  a  paper,  and  then 
proceeded: — "  I  should  indeed  have  no  doubts  upon  this 
subject,  if  I  could  trust  to  this  proclamation,  set  forth 
by  the  friends  of  the  Elector  of  Hanover,  in  which 
they  rank  Mr.  Waverley  among  the  nobility  and  gentry 
who  are  menaced  with  the  pains  of  high  treason  for 
loyalty  to  their  legitimate  sovereign.  But  I  desire 
to  gain  no  adherents  save  from  affection  and  conviction; 
and  if  Mr.  Waverley  inclines  to  prosecute  his  journey 


IN  HOLYROOD  PALACE.  13 

to  the  south,  or  to  join  the  forces  of  the  Elector,  he  shall 
have  my  passport  and  free  permission  to  do  so ;  and  I 
can  only  regret,  that  my  present  power  will  not  extend 
to  protect  him  against  the  probable  consequences  of  such 
a  measure. — But,"  continued  Charles  Edward,  after 
another  short  pause,  "if  Mr.  Waverley  should,  like  his 
ancestor,  Sir  Nigel,  determine  to  embrace  a  cause  which 
has  little  to  recommend  it  but  its  justice,  and  follow  a 
prince  who  throws  himself  upon  the  affections  of  his 
people  to  recover  the  throne  of  his  ancestors,  or  perish 
in  the  attempt,  I  can  only  say,  that  among  these  nobles 
and  gentlemen,  he  will  find  worthy  associates  in  a  gallant 
enterprise,  and  will  follow  a  master  who  may  be  unfor- 
tunate, but,  I  trust,  will  never  be  ungrateful." 

The  politic  chieftain  of  the  race  of  Ivor  knew  his 
advantage  in  introducing  Waverley  to  this  personal  in- 
terview with  the  royal  Adventurer.  Unaccustomed  to 
the  address  and  manners  of  a  polished  court,  in  which 
Charles  was  eminently  skilful,  his  words  and  his  kind- 
ness penetrated  the  heart  of  our  hero,  and  easily  out- 
weighed all  prudential  motives.  To  be  thus  personally 
solicited  for  assistance  by  a  Prince,  whose  form  and 
manners,  as  well  as  the  spirit  which  he  displayed  in 
this  singular  enterprise,  answered  his  ideas  of  a  hero  of 
romance ;  to  be  courted  by  him  in  the  ancient  halls  of 
his  paternal  palace,  recovered  by  the  sword  which  he 
was  already  bending  towards  other  conquests,  gave 
Edward,  in  his  own  eyes,  the  dignity  and  importance 
M'hich  he  had  ceased  to  consider  as  his  attributes. 
These  thoughts  rushed  through  his  mind  like  a  torrent, 
sweeping  before  them  every  consideration  of  an  oppo- 
site tendency, — the  time,  besides,  admitted  of  no  de- 


14  PRINCE  CHARLES  EDWARD 

liberation, — and  Waverley,  kneeling  to  Charles  Edward, 
devoted  his  heart  and  sword  to  the  vindication  of  his 
rights  ! 

The  Prince  (for,  although  unfortunate  in  the  faults 
and  follies  of  his  forefathers,  we  shall  here,  and  else- 
where, give  him  the  title  due  to  his  birth),  raised  Wa- 
verley from  the  ground,  and  embraced  him  with  an  ex- 
pression of  thanks  too  warm  not  to  be  genuine.  He 
also  thanked  Fergus  Maclvor  repeatedly  for  having 
brought  him  such  an  adherent,  and  presented  Wa- 
verley to  the  various  noblemen,  chieftains,  and  officers 
who  were  about  his  person,  as  a  young  gentleman  of 
the  highest  hopes  and  prospects,  in  whose  bold  and  en- 
thusiastic avowal  of  his  cause,  they  might  see  an  evi- 
dence of  the  sentiments  of  the  English  families  of  rank 
at  this  important  crisis. 

Charles  Edward,  on  his  part,  seemed  eager  to  show 
his  attendants  the  value  which  he  attached  to  his  new 
adherent,  by  entering  immediately,  as  in  confidence, 
upon  the  circumstances  of  his  situation.  "You  have 
been  secluded  so  much  from  intelligence,  Mr.  Waverley, 
from  causes  of  which  I  am  but  indistinctly  informed, 
that  I  presume  you  are  even  yet  unacquainted  with  the 
important  particulars  of  my  present  situation.  You 
have,  however,  heard  of  my  landing  in  the  remote  dis- 
trict of  Moidart,  with  only  seven  attendants,  and  of  the 
numerous  chiefs  and  clans  whose  loyal  enthusiasm  at 
once  placed  a  solitary  adventurer  at  the  head  of  a  gal- 
lant army.  You  must  also,  I  think,  have  learned  that 
the  commander-in-chief  of  the  Hanoverian  Elector,  Sir 
John  Cope,  marched  into  the  Highlands  at  the  head  of 
a  numerous  and  well-appointed  military  force,  with  the 


IN  HOLYROOD  PALACE.  15 

intention  of  giving  us  battle,  but  that  his  courage  failed 
him  when  we  were  within  three  hours'   march  of  each 
other,  so  that  he   fairly  gave  us  the  slip,  and  marched 
northward  to  Aberdeen,  leaving  the  Low  Country  open 
and  undefended.     Not  to  lose  so  favorable  an  opportu- 
nity, I  marched  on  to   this  metropolis,  driving  before 
me  two  regiments  of  horse,  Gardiner's  and  Hamilton's, 
who  had  threatened  to  cut  to  pieces  every  Highlander 
that  should  venture  to  pass  Stirling ;  and  while  discus- 
sions were  carrying  forward  among  the  magistracy  and 
citizens    of  Edinburgh,  whether   ihey  should    defend 
themselves  or  surrender,  my  good  friend  Lochiel  (laying 
his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  thatgallant  and  accomplish- 
ed chieftain)  saved  them  the  trouble  of  farther  delibera- 
tion, by  entering  the  gates  with  five  hundred  Camerons. 
Thus   far,  therefore,  we  have  done  well ;  but,  in  the 
meanwhile,  this  doughty  general's  nerves  being  braced 
by  the  keen  air  of  Aberdeen,  he  has  taken  shipping  for 
Dunbar,  and  I  have  just  received  certain  information 
that  he  landed  there  yesterday.     His  purpose  must  un- 
questionably be,  to  march  towards  us  to  recover  pos- 
session of  the  capital.     Now  there  are  two  opinions  in 
my  council  of  war :  one,  that  being   inferior  probably 
in  numbers,  and  certainly  in  discipline  and  military  ap- 
pointments, not  to  mention  our   total  want  of  artillery, 
and   the  weakness  of  our  cavalry,  it  will   be   safest  to 
fall  back  towards  the  mountains,  and  there  protract  the 
war  until  fresh  succors   arrive   from   France,  and  the 
whole  body  of  the  Highland  clans  shall  have  taken  arms 
in  our  favor.     The  opposite  opinion  maintains,  that  a 
retrograde  movement,  in  our  circumstances,  is  certain  to 
throw  utter  discredit  on  our  arms  and  undertaking;  and, 


16  PRINCE  CHARLES  EDWARD 

far  from  gaining  us  new  partisans,  will  be  the  means  of 
disheartening  those  who  have  joined  our  standard. 
Will  Mr.  Waverley  favor  us  with  his  opinion  in  these 
arduous  circumstances?" 

Waverley  colored  high  betwixt  pleasure  and  modesty 
at  the  distinction  implied  in  this  question,  and  answered, 
with  equal  spirit  and  readiness,  that  he  could  not  ven- 
ture to  offer  an  opinion  as  derived  from  military  skill, 
but  that  the  counsel  would  be  far  the  most  acceptable 
to  him  which  should  first  afford  him  an  opportunity  to 
evince  his  zeal  in  his  Royal  Highness's  service. 

"  Spoken  like  a  Waverley  !"  answered  Charles  Ed- 
ward; "  and  that  you  may  hold  a  rank,  in  some  degree, 
corresponding  to  your  name,  allow  me,  instead  of  the 
captain's  commission  which  you  have  lost,  to  offer  you 
the  brevet  rank  of  major  in  my  service,  with  the  ad- 
vantage of  acting  as  one  of  my  aides-de-camp  until  you 
can  be  attached  to  a  regiment,  of  which  I  hope  several 
will  be  speedily  embodied." 

"Your  Royal  Highness  will  forgive  me,"  answered 
Waverley,  "if  I  decline  accepting  any  rank  until  the 
time  and  place  where  I  may  have  interest  enough  to 
raise  a  sufhcient  body  of  men  to  make  my  command 
useful  to  your  Royal  Highness's  service.  In  the  mean- 
while, I  hope  for  your  permission  to  serve  as  a  volun- 
teer under  my  friend  Fergus  Maclvor." 

"At  least,"  said  the  Prince,  who  was  obviously 
pleased  with  the  proposal,  "  allow  me  the  pleasure  of 
arming  you  after  the  Highland  fashion."  With  these 
words  he  unbuckled  the  broadsword  which  he  wore, 
the  belt  of  which  was  plaited  with  silver,  and  the  steel 
basket-hilt  rich  and  curiously  inlaid.     "The  blade," 


IN  HOLYROOD  PALACE.  17 

said  the  Prince,  "is  a  genuine  Andrea  Ferrara  ;  it  has 
been  a  sort  of  heir-loom  in  our  family  ;  but  I  am  con- 
vinced I  put  it  into  better  hands  than  my  own,  and  will 
add  to  it  pistols  of  the  same  workmanship. — Colonel 
Maclvor,  you  must  have  much  to  say  to  your  friend ; 
I  will  detain  you  no  longer  from  your  private  conversa- 
tion ;  but  remember,  we  expect  you  both  to  attend  us 
in  the  evening.  It  may  be  perhaps  the  last  night  we 
may  enjoy  in  these  halls,  and  as  we  go  to  the  field  with 
a  clear  conscience,  we  will  spend  the  eve  of  batllfe 
merrily." 

Thus  licensed,  the  chief  and  Waverley  left  the  pre- 
sence-chamber. 

"  How  do  you  like  him  ?"  was  Fergus's  first  ques- 
tion, as  they  descended  the  large  stone  staircase. 

"  A  prince  to  live  and  die  under,"  was  Waverley's 
enthusiastic  answer. 


MARCH  OF  THE  HIGHLAND  ARMY 

FROM  EDINBURGH. 

The  mixed  and  wavering  multitude  arranged  them- 
selves  into  a  narrow  and  dusky  column  of  great  length, 
stretching  through  the  whole  extent  of  the  valley.  In 
the  front  of  the  column  the  standard  of  the  Chevalier 
was  displayed,  bearing  a  red  cross  upon  a  white  ground, 
with  the  motto  Tandem   Triumphans.     The  few  cav- 


18  MARCH  OF  THE  HIGHLAND  ARMY 

airy,  being  chiefly  Lowland  gentry,  with  their  domestic 
servants  and  retainers,  formed  the  advanced  guard  of 
the  army:  and  their  standards,  of  which  they  had  rather 
too  many  in  respect  of  their  numbers,  were  seen  wav- 
ing upon  the  extreme  verge  of  the  horizon.  Many 
horsemen  of  this  body,  among  whom  Waverley  acci- 
dentally remarked  Balmawhapple,  and  his  lieutenant, 
Jinker  (which  last,  however,  had  been  reduced,  with 
several  others,  by  the  advice  of  the  Baron  of  Bradwar- 
*dine,  to  the  situation  of  what  he  called  reformed  oflicers, 
or  reformadoes),  added  to  the  liveliness,  though  by  no 
means  to  the  regularity,  of  the  scene,  by  galloping  their 
horses  as  fast  forward  as  the  press  would  permit,  to 
join  their  proper  station  in  the  van.  The  fascinations 
of  the  Circes  of  the  High  Street,  and  the  potations  of 
strength  with  which  they  had  been  drenched  over  night, 
had  probably  detained  these  heroes  within  the  walls  of 
Edinburgh  somewhat  later  than  was  consistent  with 
their  morning  duty.  Of  such  loiterers,  the  prudent  took 
the  longer  and  circuitous,  but  more  open  route  to  attain 
their  place  in  the  march,  by  keeping  at  some  distance 
from  the  infantry,  and  making  their  way  through  the 
enclosures  to  the  right,  at  the  expense  of  leaping  over 
or  pulling  down  the  dry-stone  fences.  The  irregular 
appearance  and  vanishing  of  these  small  parties  of 
horsemen,  as  well  as  the  confusion  occasioned  by  those 
who  endeavored,  though  generally  without  effect,  to 
press  to  the  front  through  the  crowd  of  Highlanders, 
raaugre  their  curses,  oaths,  and  opposition,  added  to  the 
picturesque  wildness,  what  it  took  from  the  military  re- 
gularity, of  the  scene. 

A  nearer  view,  indeed,  rather  diminished  the  effect 


FROM  EDINBURGH.  19 

impressed  on  the  mind  by  the  more  distant  appearance 
of  the  army.  The  leading  men  of  each  clan  were  well 
armed  with  broadsword,  target,  and  fusee,  to  which 
all  added  the  dirk,  and  most  the  steel  pistol.  But  these 
consisted  of  gentlemen,  that  is,  relations  of  the  chief, 
however  distant,  and  who  had  an  immediate  tide  to 
his  countenance  and  protection.  Finer  and  hardier 
men  could  not  have  been  selected  out  of  any  army  in 
Christendom. 

But,  in  a  lower  rank  to  these,  there  were  found  indi- 
viduals of  an  inferior  description,  the  common  peasantry 
of  the  Highland  country,  who,  although  they  did  not 
allow  themselves  to  be  so  called,  and  claimed  often,  with 
apparent  truth,  to  be  of  more  ancient  descent  than  the 
masters  whom  they  served,  bore,  nevertheless,  the  liv- 
ery of  extreme  penury,  being  indifferently  accoutred, 
and  worse  armed,  half  naked,  stinted  in  growth,  and 
miserable  in  aspect.  Each  important  clan  had  some 
of  those  Helots  attached  to  them ;  thus,  the  Mac-Couls, 
though  tracing  their  descent  from  Comhal,  the  father 
of  Finn  or  Fingal,  were  a  sort  of  Gibeonites,  or  heredi- 
tary servants  to  the  Stewarts  of  Appin  ;  the  Macbeths, 
descended  from  the  unhappy  monarch  of  that  name, 
were  subject  to  the  Morays,  and  clan  Donnochy,  or 
Robertsons  of  Athole ;  and  many  other  examples  might 
be  given,  were  it  not  for  the  risk  of  hurting  any  pride 
of  clanship  which  may  yet  be  left,  and  thereby  draw- 
ing a  Highland  tempest  into  the  shop  of  my  publisher. 
Now  these  same  Helots,  though  forced  into  the  field 
by  the  arbitrary  authority  of  the  chieftains  under  whom 
they  hewed  wood  and  drew  water,  were,  in  general, 
very  sparingly  fed,  ill-dressed,  and  worse  armed. 


20  MARCH  OF  THE  HIGHLAND  ARMY 

Here  was  a  pole-axe,  there  a  sword  without  a  scab- 
bard ;  here  a  gun  without  a  lock,  there  a  scythe  set 
straight  upon  a  pole;  and  some  had  only  their  dirks, 
and  bludgeons  or  stakes  pulled  out  of  hedges.  The 
grim,  uncombed,  and  wild  appearance  of  these  men, 
most  of  whom  gazed  with  all  the  admiration  of  igno- 
rance upon  the  most  ordinary  production  of  domestic 
art,  created  surprise  in  the  Lowlands,  but  it  also  created 
terror.  So  little  was  the  condition  of  the  Highlands 
known  at  that  late  period,  that  the  character  and  appear- 
ance of  their  population,  while  thus  sallying  forth  as 
military  adventurers,  conveyed  to  the  south-country 
Lowlanders  as  much  surprise  as  if  an  invasion  of  Afri- 
can Negroes,  or  Esquimaux  Indians,  had  issued  forth 
from  the  northern  mountains  of  their  own  native  coun- 
try. 

As  he  moved  along  the  column,  which  still  remained 
stationary,  an  iron  gun,  the  only  piece  of  artillery  pos- 
sessed by  the  army  which  meditated  so  important  a  re- 
volution, was  fired  as  the  signal  of  march.  The  Che- 
valier had  expressed  a  wish  to  leave  this  useless  piece 
of  ordnance  behind  him  ;  but,  to  his  surprise,  the  High- 
land chiefs  interposed  to  solicit  that  it  might  accompany 
their  march,  pleading  the  prejudices  of  their  followers, 
who,  little  accustomed  to  artillery,  attached  a  degree 
of  absurd  importance  to  this  field-piece,  and  expected 
it  would  contribute  essentially  to  a  victory  which  they 
could  only  owe  to  their  own  muskets  and  broadswords. 
Two  or  three  French  artillerymen  were  therefore  ap- 
pointed to  the  management  of  this  military  engine, 
which  was  drawn  along  by  a  string  of  Highland  ponies, 


FROM  EDINBURGH.  21 

and  was,  after  all,  only  used  for  the  purpose  of  firing 
signals. 

No  sooner  was  its  voice  heard  upon  the  present  oc- 
casion, than  the  whole  line  was  in  motion.  A  wild  cry 
of  joy  from  the  advancing  battalions  rent  the  air,  and 
was  then  lost  in  the  shrill  clangor  of  the  bagpipes,  as 
the  sound  of  these,  in  their  turn,  was  partially  drowned 
by  the  heavy  tread  of  so  many  men  put  at  once  into 
motion.  The  banners  glittered  and  shook  as  they  moved 
forward,  and  the  horse  hastened  to  occupy  their  station 
as  the  advanced  guard,  and  to  push  on  reconnoitering 
parties  to  ascertain  and  report  the  motions  of  the  enemy. 
They  vanished  from  Waverley's  eye  as  they  wheeled 
round  the  base  of  Arthur's  Seat,  under  the  remarkable 
ridcje  of  basaltic  rocks  which  fronts  the  little  lake  of 
Duddingston. 


BATTLE   OF  PRESTON   PANS. 

Although  the  Highlanders  marched  on  very  fast,  the 
sun  was  declining  when  they  arrived  upon  the  brow  of 
those  high  grounds  which  command  an  open  and  ex- 
tensive plain  stretching  northward  to  the  sea,  on  which 
are  situated,  but  at  a  considerable  distance  from  each 
other,  the  small  villages  of  Seaton  and  Cockenzie,  and 
the  larger  one  of  Preston.  One  of  the  low  coast-roads 
to  Edinburgh  passed  through  this  plain,  issuing  upon  it 
from  the  enclosures  of  Seaton-house,  and  at  the  town 


22  BATTLE  OF  PRESTON  PANS. 

or  village  of  Preston  again  entering  the  defiles  of  an  en- 
closed country.  By  this  way  the  English  general  had 
chosen  to  approach  the  metropolis,  both  as  most  com- 
modious for  his  cavalry,  and  being  probably  of  opinion 
that,  by  doing  so,  he  would  meet  in  front  with  the 
Highlanders  advancing  from  Edinburgh  in  the  opposite 
direction.  In  this  he  was  mistaken ;  for  the  sound 
judgment  of  the  Chevalier,  or  of  those  to  whose  advice 
he  listened,  left  the  direct  passage  free,  but  occupied 
the  strong  ground  by  which  it  was  overlooked  and  com- 
manded. 

When  the  Highlanders  reached  the  heights  above  the 
plain  described,  they  were  immediately  formed  in  array 
of  battle  along  the  brow  of  the  hill.  Almost  at  the 
same  instant  the  van  of  the  English  appeared  issuing 
from  among  the  trees  and  enclosures  of  Seaton,  with 
the  purpose  of  occupying  the  level  plain  between  the 
high  ground  and  the  sea ;  the  space  which  divided  the 
armies  being  only  about  half  a  mile  in  breadth. 

The  roll  of  the  drum  and  shrill  accompaniment  of  the 
fifes  swelled  up  the  hill — died  away — resumed  its  thun- 
der— and  was  at  length  hushed.  The  trumpets  and 
kettle-drums  of  the  cavalry  Avere  next  heard  to  perform 
the  beautiful  and  wild  point  of  war  appropriated  as  a 
signal  for  that  piece  of  nocturnal  duty,  and  then  finally 
sunk  upon  the  wind  with  a  shrill  and  mournful  cadence. 

The  friends,  who  had  now  reached  their  post,  stood 
and  looked  round  them  ere  they  lay  down  to  rest.  The 
western  sky  twinkled  with  stars,  but  a  frost-mist,  rising 
from  the  ocean,  covered  the  eastern  horizon,  and  rolled 
in  white  wreaths  along  the  plain  where  the  adverse  army 
lay  couched  upon  their  arms.     Their  advanced  posts 


BATTLE  OF  PRESTON  PANS.  23! 

were  pushed  as  far  as  the  side  of  the  great  ditch  at  the 
bottom  of  the  descent,  and  had  kindled  large  fires,  at 
different  intervals  gleaming  with  obscure  and  hazy 
lustre  through  the  heavy  fog  which  encircled  them  with 
a  doubtful  halo. 

The  Highlanders,  "  thick  as  leaves  in  Vallambrosa," 
lay  stretched  upon  the  ridge  of  the  hill,  buried  (excepting 
their  sentinels)  in  the  most  profound  repose.  "  How 
many  of  these  brave  fellows  will  sleep  more  soundly 
before  to-morrow  night,  Fergus  1"  said  Waverley,  with 
an  involuntary  sigh. 

"  You  must  not  think  of  that,"  answered  Fergus, 
whose  ideas  were  entirely  military.  "  You  must  only 
think  of  your  sword,  and  by  whom  it  was  given.  All 
other  reflections  are  now  too  late." 

With  the  opiate  contained  in  this  undeniable  remark, 
Edward  endeavored  to  lull  the  tumult  of  his  conflicting 
feelings.  The  chieftain  and  he,  combining  their  plaids, 
made  a  comfortable  and  warm  couch.  Galium,  sitting 
down  at  their  head  (for  it  was  his  duty  to  watch  upon 
the  immediate  person  of  the  chief),  began  a  long  mourn- 
ful song  in  Gaelic,  to  a  low  and  uniform  tune,  which, 
like  the  sound  of  the  wind  at  a  distance,  soon  lulled 
them  to  sleep. 

When  Fergus  Maclvor  and  his  friend  had  slept  for 
a  few  hours,  they  were  awakened,  and  summoned  to 
attend  the  Prince.  The  distant  village-clock  was  heard 
to  toll  three  as  they  hastened  to  the  place  where  he  lay. 
He  was  already  surrounded  by  his  principal  officers  and 
the  chiefs  of  clans.  A  bundle  of  pease-straw,  which 
had  been  lately  his  couch,  now  served  for  his  seat. 
Just  as  Fergus  reached  the  circle,  the  consultation  had 


24  BATTLE  OF  PRESTON  PANS. 

broken  up.  "  Courage,  my  brave  friends  !"  said  the 
Chevalier,  "  and  each  one  put  himself  instantly  at  the 
head  of  his  command  ;  a  faithful  friend  has  offered  to 
guide  us  by  a  practicable,  though  narrow  and  circuitous 
route,  which,  sweeping  to  our  right,  traverses  the  broken 
ground  and  morass,  and  enables  us  to  gain  the  firm  and 
open  plain,  upon  which  the  enemy  are  lying.  This 
difficulty  surmounted.  Heaven  and  your  good  swords 
must  do  the  rest." 

The  proposal  spread  unanimous  joy,  and  each  leader 
hastened  to  get  his  men  into  order  with  as  little  noise  as 
possible.  The  army,  moving  by  its  right  from  off  the 
ground  on  which  they  had  rested,  soon  entered  the  path 
through  the  morass,  conducting  their  march  with  as- 
tonishing silence  and  great  rapidity.  The  mist  had  not 
risen  to  the  higher  grounds,  so  that  for  some  time  they 
had  the  advantage  of  star-light.  But  this  was  lost  as 
the  stars  faded  before  approaching  day,  and  the  head  of 
the  marching  column,  continuing  its  descent,  plunged 
as  it  were  into  the  heavy  ocean  of  fog,  which  rolled  its 
white  waves  over  the  wiiole  plain,  and  over  the  sea  by 
which  it  was  bounded.  Some  difficulties  were  now  to 
be  encountered,  inseparable  from  darkness,  a  narrow, 
broken,  and  marshy  path,  and  the  necessity  of  preserv- 
ing union  in  the  march.  These,  however,  were  less 
inconvenient  to  Highlanders,  from  their  habits  of  life, 
than  they  would  have  been  to  any  other  troops,  and 
they  continued  a  steady  and  swift  movement. 

As  the  clan  of  Ivor  approached  the  firm  ground,  fol- 
lowing the  track  of  those  who  preceded  them,  the  chal- 
lenge of  a  patrol  was  heard  through  the  mist,  though 


BATTLE  OF  PRESTON  PANS.  25 

they  could  not  see  the  dragoon  by  whom  it  was  made— 
"Who  goes  there?" 

"  Hush,"  cried  Fergus,  "  hush !  Let  none  answer, 
as  he  values  his  life — Press  forward ;"  and  they  con- 
tinued their  march  with  silence  and  rapidity. 
'  The  Highland  army,  which  now  occupied  the  east- 
ern end  of  the  wide  plain,  or  stubble  field,  so  often  re- 
ferred to,  was  drawn  up  in  two  lines,  extending  from 
the  morass  towards  the  sea.  The  first  was  destined  to 
charge  the  enemy,  the  second  to  act  as  a  reserve.  The 
few  horse,  whom  the  Prince  headed  in  person,  remained 
between  the  two  lines.  The  Adventurer  had  intimated 
a  resolution  to  charge  in  person  at  the  head  of  his  first 
line ;  but  his  purpose  was  deprecated  by  all  around  him, 
and  he  was  with  difficulty  induced  to  abandon  it. 

Both  lines  were  now  moving  forward,  the  first  pre- 
pared for  instant  combat.  The  clans,  of  which  it  was 
composed,  formed  each  a  sort  of  separate  phalanx,  narrow 
in  front,  and  in  depth  ten,  twelve,  or  fifteen  files,  accord- 
ing to  the  strength  of  the  following.  The  best  armed 
and  best-born,  for  the  words  were  synonymous,  were 
placed  in  front  of  each  of  these  irregular  sub-divisions. 
The  others  in  the  rear  shouldered  forward  the  front, 
and  by  their  pressure  added  both  physical  impulse,  and 
additional  ardor  and  confidence,  to  those  who  were  first 
to  encounter  the  danger. 

"  Down  with  your  plaid,  AVaverley,"  cried  Fergus, 
throwing  off"  his  own  ;  "  we'll  win  silks  for  our  tartans 
before  the  sun  is  above  the  sea." 

The  clansmen  on  every  side  stript  their  plaids,  pre- 
pared their  arms,  and  there  was  an  awful  pause  of  about 
three  minutes,  during  which  the  men,  pulling  off"  their 

VOL.  II. — 3 


26  BATTLE  OF  PRESTON  PANS. 

bonnets,  raised  their  faces  to  heaven,  and  uttered  a  short 
prayer;  then  pulled  their  bonnets  over  their  brows,  and 
began  to  move  forward,  at  first  slowly.  Waverley  felt 
his  heart  at  that  moment  throb  as  it  would  have  burst 
from  his  bosom.  The  pipes  played,  and  the  clans 
rushed  forward,  each  in  its  own  dark  column.  As  they 
advanced  they  mended  their  pace,  and  the  muttering 
sounds  of  the  men  to  each  other  began  to  swell  into  a 
■wild  cry. 

At  this  moment,  the  sun,  which  was  now  risen  above 
the  horizon,  dispelled  the  mist.  The  vapors  rose  like 
a  curtain,  and  showed  the  two  armies  in  the  act  of 
closing.  The  line  of  the  regulars  was  formed  directly 
fronting  the  attack  of  the  Highlanders  ;  it  glittered  with 
the  appointments  of  a  complete  army,  and  was  flanked 
by  cavalry  and  artillery.  But  the  sight  impressed  no 
terror  on  the  assailants. 

"  Forward,  sons  of  Ivor,"  cried  their  chief,  "  or  the 
Camerons  will  draw  the  first  blood  !" — They  rushed  on 
with  a  tremendous  yell. 

The  rest  is  well  known.  The  horse,  who  were  com- 
manded to  charge  the  advancing  Highlanders  in  the 
flank,  received  an  irregular  fire  from  their  fusees  as  they 
ran  on,  and  seized  with  a  disgraceful  panic,  wavered, 
halted,  disbanded,  and  galloped  from  the  field.  The 
artillerymen,  deserted  by  the  cavalry,  fled  after  discharg- 
ing their  pieces,  and  the  Highlanders,  who  dropped  their 
guns  when  fired,  and  drew  their  broadswords,  rushed 
with  headlong  fury  against  the  infantry. 

It  was  at  this  moment  of  confusion  and  terror,  that 
Waverley  remarked  an  English  ofiicer,  apparently  of 
high  rank,  standing  alone  and  unsupported  by  a  field- 


BATTLE  OF  PRESTON  PANS.  27 

piece,  which,  after  the  flight  of  the  men  by  whom  it 
was  wrought,  he  had  himself  leveled  and  discharged 
against  the  clan  of  Maclvor,  the  nearest  group  of  High- 
landers within  his  aim.  Struck  with  his  tall,  martial 
figure,  and  eager  to  save  him  from  inevitable  destruction, 
Waverley  outstripped  for  an  instant  even  the  speediest 
of  the  warriors,  and  reaching  the  spot  first,  called  to 
him  to  surrender.  The  officer  replied  by  a  thrust 
with  his  sword,  which  Waverley  received  on  his  target, 
and  in  turning  it  aside  the  Englishman's  weapon  broke. 
At  the  same  time  the  battle-axe  of  Dugald  Mahony  was 
in  the  act  of  descending  upon  the  officer's  head. 
Waverley  intercepted  and  prevented  the  blow,  and  the 
officer,  perceiving  farther  resistance  unavailing,  and 
struck  with  Edward's  generous  anxiety  for  his  safety, 
resigned  the  fragment  of  his  sword,  and  was  committed 
by  Waverley  to  Dugald,  with  strict  charge  to  use  him 
well,  and  not  to  pillage  his  person,  promising  him,  at 
the  same  time,  full  indemnification  for  the  spoil. 

On  Edward's  right  the  battle  for  a  few  minutes  raged 
fierce  and  thick.  The  English  infantry,  trained  in  the 
wars  in  Flanders,  stood  their  ground  with  great  courage. 
But  their  extended  files  were  pierced  and  broken  in 
many  places  by  the  close  masses  of  the  clans  ;  and  in 
the  personal  struggle  which  ensued,  the  nature  of  the 
Highlanders'  weapons,  and  their  extraordinary  fierce- 
ness and  activity,  gave  them  a  decided  superiority  over 
those  who  had  been  accustomed  to  trust  much  to  their 
array  and  discipline,  and  felt  that  the  one  was  broken 
and  the  other  useless.  Waverley,  as  he  cast  his  eyes 
towards  this  scene  of  smoke  and  slaughter,  observed 
Colonel  Gardiner,  deserted  by  his  own  soldiers  in  spite 


28  BATTLE  OF  PRESTON  PANS. 

of  all  his  attempts  to  rally  them,  yet  spurring  his  horse 
through  the  field  to  take  the  command  of  a  small  body 
of  infantry,  who,  with  their  backs  arranged  against  the 
wall  of  his  own  park  (for  his  house  was  close  by  the 
field  of  battle),  continued  a  desperate  and  unavailing 
resistance.  Waverley  could  perceive  that  he  had  already 
received  many  wounds,  his  clothes  and  saddle  being 
marked  with  blood.  To  save  this  good  and  brave  man, 
became  the  instant  object  of  his  most  anxious  exertions. 
But  he  could  only  witness  his  fall.  Ere  Edward  could 
make  his  way  among  the  Highlanders,  who,  furious 
and  eager  for  spoil,  now  thronged  upon  each  other,  he 
saw  his  former  commander  brought  from  his  horse  by 
the  blow  of  a  scythe,  and  beheld  him  receive,  while  on 
the  ground,  more  wounds  than  would  have  let  out  twenty 
lives.  When  Waverley  came  up,  however,  perception 
had  not  entirely  fled.  The  dying  warrior  seemed  to 
recognize  Edward,  for  he  fixed  his  eye  upon  him  with 
an  upbraiding,  yet  sorrowful  look,  and  appeared  to  strug- 
gle for  utterance.  But  he  felt  that  death  was  dealing 
closely  with  him,  and  resigning  his  purpose,  and  fold- 
ing his  hands  as  if  in  devotion,  he  gave  up  his  soul  to 
his  Creator.  The  look  with  which  he  regarded  Waver- 
ley in  his  dying  moments,  did  not  strike  him  so  deeply 
at  that  crisis  of  hurry  and  confusion,  as  when  it  recurred 
to  his  imagination  at  the  distance  of  some  time. 

Loud  shouts  of  triumph  now  echoed  over  the  whole 
field.  The  battle  was  fought  and  won,  and  the  whole 
baggage,  artillery,  and  military  stores  of  the  regular 
army  remained  in  possession  of  the  victors.  Never 
was  a  victory  more  complete.  Scarce  any  escaped 
from  the  battle,  excepting  the  cavalry,  who  had  left  it 


SENTENCE  AND  DEATH  OF  FERGUS  MACIVOR.    29 

at  the  very  onset,  and  even  these  were  broken  into 
different  parties,  and  scattered  all  over  the  country. 


SENTENCE     AND     DEATH     OF 

FERGUS  MiCIVOR. 

Edward  pressed  into  the  court,  which  was  extremely 
crowded  ;  but  by  liis  arriving  from  the  north,  and  his 
extreme  eagerness  and  agitation,  it  was  supposed  he 
was  a  relation  of  the  prisoner's,  and  people  made  way 
for  him.  It  was  the  third  sitting  of  the  court,  and  there 
were  two  men  at  the  bar.  The  verdict  of  Guilty  was 
already  pronounced.  Edward  just  glanced  at  the  bar 
.during  the  momentous  pause  which  ensued.  There 
was  no  mistaking  the  stately  form  and  noble  features  of 
Fergus  Maclvor,  although  his  dress  was  squalid,  and 
his  countenance  tinged  with  the  sickly  yellow  hue  of 
long  and  close  imprisonment.  By  his  side  was  Evan 
Maccombich.  Edward  felt  sick  and  dizzy  as  he  gazed 
on  them  ;  but  he  was  recalled  to  himself  as  the  Clerk 
of  Arraigns  pronounced  the  solemn  words  :  "  Fergus 
Maclvor  of  Glennaquoich,  otherwise  called  Vich  Ian 
Vohr,  and  Evan  Maclvor,  in  the  Dhu  of  Tarrascleugh, 
otherwise  called  Evan  Dhu,  otherwise  called  Evan 
Maccombich,  or  Evan  Dhu  Maccombich — you,  and 
each  of  you,  stand  attainted  of  high  treason.  What 
have  you  to  say  for  yourselves  why  the  court  should 


30  SENTENCE  AND  DEATH  OF 

not   pronounce  judgment   against   you,    that   you   die 
according  to  law  ?  " 

Fergus,  as  the  presiding  Judge  was  putting  on  the 
fatal  cap  of  judgment,  placed  his  own  bonnet  upon  his 
head,  regarded  him  with  a  steadfast  and  stern  look,  and 
replied  in  a  firm  voice,  "  I  cannot  let  this  numerous 
audience  suppose  that  to  such  an  appeal  I  have  no  an- 
swer to  make.  But  what  I  have  to  say,  you  would  not 
bear  to  hear,  for  my  defence  would  be  your  condemna- 
tion. Proceed,  then,  in  the  name  of  God,  to  do  what 
is  permitted  to  you.  Yesterday,  and  the  day  before, 
you  have  condemned  loyal  and  honorable  blood  to  be 
poured  forth  like  water.  Spare  not  mine.  Were  that 
of  all  my  ancestors  in  my  veins,  I  would  have  peril'd  it 
in  this  quarrel."  He  resumed  his  seat,  and  refused 
again  to  rise. 

Evan  Maccombich  looked  at  him  with  great  earnest- 
ness, and,  rising  up,  seemed  anxious  to  speak ;  but  the 
confusion  of  the  court,  and  the  perplexity  arising  from 
thinking  in  a  language  different  from  that  in  which  he 
was  to  express  himself,  kept  him  silent.  There  was  a 
murmur  of  compassion  among  the  spectators,  from  the 
idea  that  the  poor  fellow  intended  to  plead  the  influence 
of  his  superior  as  an  excuse  for  his  crime.  The  judge 
commanded  silence,  and  encouraged  Evan  to  proceed. 

"  I  was  only  ganging  to  say,  my  lord,"  said  Evan,  in 
what  he  meant  to  be  an  insinuating  manner,  "that  if 
your  excellent  honor,  and  the  honorable  Court,  would 
let  Vich  Ian  Vohr  go  free  just  this  once,  and  let  him 
gae  back  to  France,  and  no  to  trouble  King  George's 
government  again,  that  ony  six  o'  the  very  best  of  his 
clan  will  be  willing  to  be  justified  in  his  stead  ;  and  if 


FERGUS  MACIVOR.  31 

you'll  just  let  me  gae  down  to  Glennaquoich,  I'll  fetch 
them  up  to  ye  my  sell,  to  head  or  hang,  and  you  may 
begin  wi'  me  the  very  first  man." 

Notwithstanding  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  a  sort 
of  laugh  was  heard  in  the  court  at  the  extraordinary  na- 
ture of  the  proposal.  The  Judge  checked  this  inde- 
cency, and  Evan,  looking  sternly  around,  when  the  mur- 
mur abated,  "  If  the  Saxon  gentlemen  are  laughing,"  he 
said,  "because  a  poor  man  such  as  me,  thinks  my  life, 
or  the  life  of  six  of  my  degree,  is  worth  that  of  Vich 
Ian  Vohr,  it's  like  enough  they  may  be  very  right;  but 
if  they  laugh  because  they  think  I  would  not  keep  my 
word,  and  come  back  to  redeem  him,  I  can  tell  them 
they  ken  neither  the  heart  of  a  Hielandman,  nor  the  ho- 
nor of  a  gentleman." 

There  was  no  farther  inclination  to  laugh  among  the 
audience,  and  a  dead  silence  ensued. 

The  Judge  then  pronounced  upon  both  prisoners  the 
sentence  of  the  law  of  high  treason,  with  all  its  horrible 
accompaniments.  The  execution  was  appointed  for  the 
ensuing  day.  "  For  you,  Fergus  Maclvor,"  continued 
the  Judge,  "I  can  hold  out  no  hope  of  mercy.  You 
must  prepare  against  to-morrow  for  your  last  sufferings 
here,  and  your  great  audit  hereafter." 

"  I  desire  nothing  else,  my  lord,"  answered  Fergus, 
in  the  same  manly  and  firm  tone. 

The  hard  eyes  of  Evan,  which  had  been  perpetually 
bent  on  his  chief,  were  moistened  with  a  tear.  "For 
you,  poor  ignorant  man,"  continued  the  Judge,  "  who, 
following  the  ideas  in  which  you  have  been  educated, 
have  this  day  given  us  a  striking  example  how  the  loy- 
alty due  to  the  king  and  state  alone,  is,  from  your  un- 


33  SENTENCE  AND  DEATH  OF 

happy  ideas  of  clanship,  transferred  to  some  ambitious 
individual,  who  ends  by  making  you  the  tool  of  his 
crimes — for  you,  I  say,  I  feel  so  much  compassion,  that 
if  you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  petition  for  grace,  I 
will  endeavor  to  procure  it  for  you.     Otherwise " 

"  Grace  me  no  grace,"  said  Evan ;  "  since  you  are  to 
shed  Vich  Ian  Vohr's  blood,  the  only  favor  I  would 
accept  from  you,  is — to  bid  them  loose  my  hands  and 
gie  me  my  claymore,  and  bide  you  just  a  minute  sitting 
where  you  are  !" 

"  Remove  the  prisoners,"  said  the  judge ;  "  his  blood 
be  upon  his  own  head." 

Almost  stupefied  with  his  feelings,  Edward  found  that 
the  rush  of  the  crowd  had  conveyed  him  out  into  the 
street,  ere  he  knew  what  he  was  doing'. 

After  a  sleepless  night,  the  first  dawn  of  morning 
found  Waverley  on  the  esplanade  in  front  of  the  old 
Gothic  gate  of  Carlisle  Castle.  But  he  paced  it  long 
in  every  direction,  before  the  hour  when,  according  to 
the  rules  of  a  garrison,  the  gates  were  opened,  and  the 
drawbridge  lowered.  He  produced  his  order  to  the 
sergeant  of  the  guard  and  was  admitted. 

The  place  of  Fergus'  confinement  was  a  gloomy  and 
vaulted  apartment  in  the  central  part  of  the  Castle  ;  a 
huge  old  tower,  supposed  to  be  of  great  antiquity,  and 
surrounded  by  outworks,  seemingly  of  Henry  VHI's 
time,  or  somewhat  later.  The  grating  of  the  large  old- 
fashioned  bars  and  bolts,  withdrawn  for  the  purpose 
of  admitting  Edward,  was  answered  bv  the  clash  of 
chains,  as  the  unfortunate  Chieftain,  strongly  and  hea- 
vily fettered,  shuffled  along  the  stone  floor  of  his  pri- 
son, to  fling  himself  into  his  friend's  arms. 


FERGUS  MACIVOR.  33 

*'  My  dear  Edward,"  he  said,  in  a  firm  and  even 
cheerful  voice,  "  this  is  truly  kind.  I  heard  of  your 
approaching  happiness  with  the  highest  pleasure.  And 
how  does  Rose?  and  how  is  our  old  whimsical  friend 
the  Baron  ?  Well,  I  trust,  since  I  see  you  at  free- 
dom"  

"  How,  O  how,  my  dear  Fergus,  can  you  talk  of  such 
things  at  such  a  moment!" 

"  Why,  we  have  entered  Carlisle  with  happier  aus- 
pices, to  be  sure — on  the  16th  of  November  last,  for 
example,  when  we  marched  in,  side  by  side,  and  hoisted 
the  white  flaff  on  these  ancient  towers.  But  I  am  no 
boy,  to  sit  down  and  weep,  because  the  luck  has  gone 
against  rae.  I  knew  the  stake  which  I  risked ;  we 
played  the  game  boldly,  and  the  forfeit  shall  be  paid 
manfully.  And  now,  since  my  time  is  short,  let  me 
come  to  the  questions  that  interest  me  most — the  Prince  ? 
has  he  escaped  the  bloodhounds?" 

"He  has,  and  is  in  safety." 

"  Praised  be  God  for  that !  Tell  me  the  particulars 
of  his  escape." 

Waverley  communicated  that  remarkable  history,  so 
far  as  it  had  then  transpired,  to  which  Fergus  listened 
with  deep  interest.  He  then  asked  after  several  other 
friends ;  and  made  many  minute  inquiries  concerning 
the  fate  of  his  own  clansmen. 

"  You  are  rich,"  he  said,  "  AVaverley,  and  you  are 
generous.  When  you  hear  of  these  poor  Maclvors 
being  distressed  about  their  miserable  possessions  by 
some  harsh  overseer  or  agent  of  government,  remember 
you  have  worn  their  tartan,  and  are  an  adopted  son  of 


34  SENTENCE  AND  DEATH  OF 

their  race.     Will  you  promise  this  to  the  last  Vich  Ian 
Vohr?" 

Edward,  as  may  well  be  believed,  pledged  his  word ; 
which  he  afterwards  so  amply  redeemed,  that  his  me- 
mory still  lives  in  these  glens  by  the  name  of  the  Friend 
of  the  Sons  of  Ivor. 

"  AVould  to  God,"  continued  the  Chieflain,  "I  could 
bequeath  to  you  my  rights  to  the  love  and  obedience  of 
this  primitive  and  brave  race — or  at  least,  as  I  have 
striven  to  do,  persuade  poor  Evan  to  accept  of  his  life 
upon  their  terms  ;  and  be  to  you,  what  he  has  been  to 
me,  the  kindest — the  bravest — the  most  devoted " 

The  tears  which  his  own  fate  could  not  draw  forth, 
fell  fast  for  that  of  his  foster-brother. 

"But,"  said  he,  drying  them,  "that  cannot  be.  You 
cannot  be  to  them  Vich  Ian  Vohr;  and  these  three  ma- 
gic words,"  said  he,  half  smiling,  "  are  the  only  Open 
Sesame  to  their  feelings  and  sympathies,  and  poor  Evan 
must  attend  his  foster-brother  in  death  as  he  has  done 
through  his  whole  life." 

"And  I  am  sure,"  said  Maccombich,  raising  himself 
from  the  floor,  on  which,  for  fear  of  interrupting  their 
conversation,  he  had  lain  so  still,  that  in  the  obscurity 
of  the  apartment,  Edward  was  not  aware  of  his  pre- 
sence— "  I  am  sure  Evan  never  desired  or  deserved  a 
better  end  than  just  to  die  with  his  Chieftain." 

"And  now,"  said  Fergus,  "  while  we  are  upon  the 
subject  of  clanship — what  think  you  now  of  the  pre- 
diction of  the  Bodach  Glas  .?"  [The  Gray  Spectre. 3 
Then,  before  Edward  could  answer,  "I  saw  him  again 
last  night — he  stood  in  the  slip  of  moonshine,  which 
fell  from  that  high  and  narrow  window,  towards  ray 


FERGUS  MACIVOR.  35 

bed.  Why  should  I  fear  him,  I  thought — to-morrow, 
long  ere  this  time,  I  shall  be  as  immaterial  as  he. 
'  False  spirit,'  I  said,  '  art  thou  come  to  close  thy 
walks  on  earth,  and  to  enjoy  thy  triumph  in  the 
fall  of  the  last  descendant  of  thine  enemy  ?'  The 
spectre  seemed  to  beckon  and  to  smile,  as  he  faded  from 
ray  sight.  What  do  you  think  of  it? — I  asked  the 
same  question  of  the  priest,  who  is  a  good  and  sensi- 
ble man ;  he  admitted  that  the  Church  allowed  that 
such  apparitions  were  possible,  but  urged  me  not  to  per- 
mit my  mind  to  dwell  upon  it,  as  imagination  plays  us 
such  strange  tricks.     What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"Much  as  your  confessor,"  said  Waverley,  willing  to 
avoid  dispute  upon  such  a  point  at  such  a  moment.  A 
tap  at  the  door  now  announced  that  good  man,  and  Ed- 
ward retired  while  he  administered  to  both  prisoners 
the  last  rites  of  religion  in  the  mode  which  the  Church 
of  Rome  prescribes. 

In  about  an  hour  he  was  re-admitted  ;  soon  after,  a 
file  of  soldiers  entered  with  a  blacksmith,  who  struck 
the  fetters  from  the  legs  of  the  prisoners. 

"You  see  the  compliment  they  pay  to  our  Highland 
strength  and  courage — we  have  lain  chained  here  like 
wild  beasts,  till  our  legs  are  cramped  into  palsy,  and 
when  they  free  us,  they  send  six  soldiers  with  loaded, 
muskets  to  prevent  our  taking  the  castle  by  storm  !" 

Edward  afterwards  learned  that  these  severe  precau- 
tions had  been  taken  in  consequence  of  a  desperate  at- 
tempt of  the  prisoners  to  escape,  in  which  they  had 
very  nearly  succeeded. 

Shordy  afterwards  the  drums  of  the  garrison  beat  to 
arms.     "  This  is  the  last  turn-out,"  said  Fergus,  "  that 


36  SENTENCE  AND  DEATH  OF 

I  shall  hear  and  obey.  And  now,  my  dear,  dear  Ed- 
ward, ere  we  part  let  us  speak  of  Flora — a  subject  which 
awakes  the  tenderest  feeling  that  yet  thrills  within  me." 

"  We  part  not  Aere.'"  said  Waverley. 

"  O  yes,  we  do ;  you  must  come  no  farther.  Not  that 
I  fear  what  is  to  follow  for  myself,"  he  said  proudly: 
*'  Nature  has  her  tortures  as  well  as  art;  and  how  happy 
should  we  think  the  man  who  escapes  from  the  throes 
of  a  mortal  and  painful  disorder,  in  the  space  of  a  short 
half  hour?  And  this  matter,  spin  it  out  as  they  will, 
cannot  last  longer.  But  what  a  dying  man  can  suffer 
firmly  may  kill  a  living  friend  to  look  upon.  This 
same  law  of  high  treason,"  he  continued,  with  astonish- 
ing firmness  and  composure,  "  is  one  of  the  blessings, 
Edward,  with  which  your  free  country  has  accommo- 
dated poor  old  Scotland — her  own  jurisprudence,  as  I 
have  heard,  was  much  milder.  But  I  suppose  one  day 
or  other — when  there  are  no  longer  any  wild  High- 
landers to  benefit  by  its  tender  mercies — they  will  blot 
it  from  their  records,  as  leveling  them  with  a  nation  of 
cannibals.  The  mummery,  too,  of  exposing  the  sense- 
less head — they  have  not  the  wit  to  grace  mine  with  a 
paper  coronet ;  there  would  be  some  satire  in  that,  Ed- 
ward. I  hope  they  will  set  it  on  the  Scotch  gate  though, 
that  I  may  look,  even  after  death,  to  the  blue  hills  of 
my  own  country,  which  I  love  so  dearly.  The  Baron 
would  have  added, 

"  '  JMoritur,  et  moriens  dulces  reminiscitur  Argos.'  " 

A  bustle,  and  the  sound  of  wheels  and  horses'  feet, 
was  now  heard  in  the  court-yard  of  the  Castle.     "  As 


FERGUS  MACIVOR.  37 

I  have  told  you  why  you  must  not  follow  me,  and  these 
sounds  admonish  me  that  my  time  flies  fast,  tell  me  how 
you  found  poor  Flora?" 

Waverley,  with  a  voice  full  of  suffocating  sensations, 
gave  some  account  of  the  state  of  her  mind. 

"Poor  Flora!"  answered  the  Chief, "  she  could  liave 
borne  her  own  sentence  of  death,  but  not  mine.  You, 
Waverley,  will  soon  know  the  happiness  of  mutual 
affection  in  the  married  state — long,  long  may  Rose  and 
you  enjoy  it! — but  you  can  never  know  the  purity  of 
feeling  which  combines  two  orphans,  like  Flora  and 
me,  left  alone  as  it  were  in  the  world,  and  being  all  in 
all  to  each  other  from  our  very  infancy.  But  her  strong 
sense  of  duty,  and  predominant  feeling  of  loyalty,  will 
give  new  nerve  to  her  mind  after  the  imm.ediate  and 
acute  sensation  of  this  parting  has  passed  away.  She 
will  then  think  of  Fergus  as  of  the  heroes  of  our  race, 
upon  whose  deeds  she  loved  to  dwell." 

"  Sliall  she  not  see  you  then?"  asked  Waverley. 
"  She  seemed  to  expect  it." 

"  A  necessary  deceit  will  spare  her  the  last  dreadful 
parting.  I  could  not  part  with  her  without  tears,  and  I 
cannot  bear  that  these  men  should  think  they  have  power 
to  extort  them.  She  was  made  to  believe  she  would 
see  me  at  a  later  hour,  and  this  letter,  which  my  con- 
fessor will  deliver,  will  apprise  her  that  all  is  over." 

An  officer  now  appeared,  and  intimated  that  the  High 
Sheriff  and  his  attendants  waited  before  the  gate  of  the 
castle,  to  claim  the  bodies  of  Fergus  Maclvor  and  Evan 
Maccombich.  "  I  come,"  said  Fergus.  Accordingly, 
supporting  Edward  by  the  arm,  and  followed  by  Evan 
Dhu  and  the  priest,  he  moved  down  the  stairs  of  the 


38  SENTENCE  AND  DEATH  OF 

tower,  the  soldiers  bringing  up  the  rear.  The  court  was 
occupied  by  a  squadron  of  dragoons  and  a  battalion  of 
infantry,  drawn  up  in  hollow  square.  Within  their 
ranks  was  the  sledge,  or  hurdle,  on  which  the  prisoners 
were  to  be  drawn  to  the  place  of  execution,  about  a 
mile  distant  from  Carlisle.  It  was  painted  black,  and 
drawn  by  a  white  horse.  At  one  end  of  the  vehicle  sat 
the  executioner,  a  horrid-looking  fellow,  as  beseemed 
his  trade,  with  the  broad  axe  in  his  hand ;  at  the  other 
end,  next  the  horse,  was  an  empty  seat  for  two  persons. 
Through  the  deep  and  dark  Gothic  arch-way,  that  open- 
ed on  the  draw-bridge,  were  seen  on  horseback  the  High 
Sheriff  and  his  attendants,  whom  the  etiquette  betwixt 
the  civil  and  military  powers  did  not  permit  to  come 
further.  "  This  is  well  got  up  for  a  closing  scene," 
said  Fergus,  smiling  disdainfully  as  he  gazed  around 
upon  the  apparatus  of  terror.  Evan  Dhu  exclaimed 
with  some  eagerness,  after  looking  at  the  dragoons, 
"  These  are  the  very  chields  that  galloped  off  at  Glads- 
rauir,  before  we  could  kill  a  dozen  o'  them.  They  look 
bold  enough  now,  however."  The  priest  entreated  him 
to  be  silent. 

The  sledge  now  approached,  and  Fergus,  turning 
round,  embraced  Waverley,  kissed  him  on  each  side  of 
the  face,  and  stepped  nimbly  into  his  place.  Evan  sat 
down  by  his  side.  The  priest  was  to  follow  in  a  car- 
riage belonging  to  his  patron,  the  Catholic  gentleman  at 
whose  house  Flora  resided.  As  Fergus  waved  his  hand 
to  Edward,  the  ranks  closed  around  the  sledge,  and  the 
whole  procession  began  to  move  forward.  There  was 
a  momentary  stop  at  the  gate-way,  while  the  governor 
of  the  Castle  and  the  High  Sheriff  went  through  a  short 


o 

a 


FERGUS  MACIVOR.  39 

ceremony,  the  military  officer  there  delivering  over  the 
persons  of  the  criminals  to  the  civil  power.  "  God  save 
King:  George !"  said  the  High  Sheriff.  When  the 
formality  concluded,  Fergus  stood  erect  in  the  sledge, 
and,  with  a  firm  and  steady  voice,  replied,  "  God  save 
King  James .'"  These  were  the  last  words  which  Wa- 
verley  heard  him  speak. 

The  procession  resumed  its  march,  and  the  sledge 
vanished  from  beneath  the  portal,  under  which  it  had 
stopped  for  an  instant.  The  dead-march  was  then  heard, 
and  its  melancholy  sounds  were  mingled  with  those  of 
a  muffled  peal,  tolled  from  the  neighboring  cathedral. 
The  sound  of  the  military  music  died  away  as  the  pro- 
cession moved  on ;  the  sullen  clang  of  the  bells  was 
soon  heard  to  sound  alone. 

The  last  of  the  soldiers  had  now  disappeared  from 
under  the  vaulted  archway  through  which  they  had  been 
filing  for  several  minutes  ;  the  court-yard  was  not  totally 
empty,  but  Waverley  still  stood  there  as  if  stupefied, 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  dark  pass  where  he  had  so  lately 
seen  the  last  glimpse  of  his  friend.  At  length,  a  female 
servant  of  the  governor's,  struck  with  compassion  at  the 
stupefied  misery  which  his  countenance  expressed,  asked 
him  if  he  would  not  walk  into  her  master's  house  and 
sit  down  !  She  was  obliged  to  repeat  her  question  twice 
ere  he  comprehended  her,  but  at  length  it  recalled  him 
to  himself.  Declining  the  courtesy  by  a  hasty  gesture, 
he  pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and,  leaving  the  Castle, 
walked  as  swiftly  as  he  could  through  the  empty  streets, 
till  he  regained  his  inn,  then  rushed  into  an  apartment, 
and  bolted  the  door. 

In  about  an  hour  and  a  half,  which  seemed  an  age 


40  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

of  unutterable  suspense,  the  sound  of  the  drums  and 
fifes,  performing  a  lively  air,  and  the  confused  murmur 
of  the  crowd  which  now  filled  the  streets,  so  lately  de- 
serted, apprised  him  that  all  was  finished,  and  that  the 
military  and  populace  were  returning  from  the  dread- 
ful scene. 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND 
ANECDOTES. 


TIME. 

The  time  which  passes  over  our  heads  so  impercep- 
tibly, makes  the  same  gradual  change  in  habits,  man- 
ners, and  character  as  in  personal  appearance.  At  the 
revolution  of  every  five  years  we  find  ourselves  another, 
and  yet  the  same — there  is  a  change  of  views,  and  no 
less  of  the  light  in  which  we  regard  them ;  a  change  of 
motives  as  well  as  of  actions. 

The  bell  strikes  one. — We  take  no  note  of  time 
But  from  its  loss.     To  give  it  then  a  tongue 
Is  wise  in  man.     As  if  an  angel  spoke, 
I  feel  the  solemn  sound. 

YotJNG. 

The  moral,  which  the  poet  has  rather  quaintly  de- 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  41 

duced  from  the  necessary  mode  of  measuring  time,  may- 
be well  applied  to  our  feelings  respecting  that  portion 
of  it  which  constitutes  human  life.  We  observe  the 
aged,  the  infirm,  and  those  engaged  in  occupations  of 
immediate  hazard,  trembling  as  it  were  upon  the  very- 
brink  of  non-existence,  but  we  derive  no  lesson  from 
the  precariousness  of  their  tenure  until  it  has  altogether 
failed.     Then,  for  a  moment  at  least. 

Our  hopes  and  fears 
Start  up  alarrn'd,  and  o'er  life's  narrow  verge 
Look  down — On  what  ? — a  fathomless  abyss, 
A  dark  eternity — liow  surely  ours! 

Our  time  is  like  our  money.  When  we  change  a 
guinea,  the  shillings  escape  as  things  of  small  account; 
when  we  break  a  day  by  idleness  in  the  morning,  the 
rest  of  the  hours  lose  their  importance  in  our  eye. 

THE  VOYAGE  OF    LIFE. 

When  we  set  out  on  the  jolly  voyage  of  life,  what 
a  brave  fleet  there  is  around  us,  as  stretching  our  fresh 
canvas  to  the  breeze,  all "'  shipshape  and  Bristol  fashion," 
pennons  flying,  music  playing,  cheering  each  other  as 
we  pass,  we  are  rather  amused  than  alarmed  when  some 
awkward  comrade  goes  right  ashore  for  want  of  pilot- 
age ! — Alas  !  when  the  voyage  is  well  spent,  and  we 
look  about  us,  toil-worn  mariners,  how  few  of  our  an- 
cient consorts  still  remain  in  sight,  and  they,  how  torn 
and  wasted,  and,  like  ourselves,  struggling  to  keep  as 
long  as  possible  ofl'  the  fatal  shore,  against  which  we 
are  all  finally  drifting  ! 

VOL.  II. — 4 


42  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 


DUTY  AND  HAPPINESS. 

Whatever  may  be  alleged  to  the  contrary  by  the  scep- 
tic and  the  scorner,  to  each  duty  performed  there  is  as- 
signed a  degree  of  mental  peace  and  high  consciousness 
of  honorable  exertion,  corresponding  to  the  difficulty  of 
the  task  accomplished.  That  rest  of  the  body  which 
succeeds  to  hard  and  industrious  toil,  is  not  to  be  com- 
pared to  the  repose  which  the  spirit  enjoys  under  similar 
circumstances. 

SUPERSTITIOUS  FEELING. 

He  who,  in  early  youth,  has  Iiappened  to  pass  a 
solitary  night  in  one  of  the  few  ancient  mansions  which 
the  fashion  of  more  modern  times  has  left  undespoiled  of 
their  original  furniture,  has  probably  experienced,  that 
the  gigantic  and  preposterous  figures  dimly  visible  in  the 
defaced  tapestry, — the  remote  clang  of  the  distant  doors 
which  divide  him  from  living  society — the  deep  darkness 
which  involves  the  liigh  and  fretted  roof  of  the  apartment, 
— the  dimly  seen  pictures  of  ancient  knights,  renowned 
for  their  valor,  and  perhaps  for  their  crimes — the  varied 
and  indistinct  sounds  which  disturb  the  silent  desolation 
of  a  half-deserted  mansion — and,  to  crown  all,  the  feel- 
ings that  carries  us  back  to  ages  of  feudal  power  and  papal 
superstition,  join  together  to  excite  a  corresponding  sen- 
sation of  supernatural  awe,  if  not  of  terror.  It  is  in  such 
situations,  when  superstition  becomes  contagious,  that 
we  listen  with  respect,  and  even  with  dread,  to  the 
legends  which  are  our  sport  in  the  garish  light  of  sun- 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  43 

shine,  and  amid  the  dissipating  sights  and  sounds  of 
everyday  life. 

DESULTORY     READING. 

Nothing,  perhaps,  increases  by  indulgence  more  than 
a  desultory  habit  of  reading,  especially  under  such 
opportunities  of  gratifying  it.  I  believe  one  reason 
why  such  numerous  instances  of  erudition  occur  among 
the  lower  ranks  is,  that,  with  the  same  powers  of  mind, 
the  poor  student  is  limited  to  a  narrow  circle  for 
indulging  his  passion  for  books,  and  must  necessarily 
make  himself  master  of  the  few  he  possesses  ere  he  can 
acquire  more.  Edward,  on  the  contrary,  like  the 
epicure  who  only  deigned  to  take  a  single  morsel  from 
the  sunny  side  of  a  peach,  read  no  volume  a  moment 
after  it  ceased  to  excite  his  curiosity,  or  interest ;  and  it 
necessarily  happened,  that  the  habit  of  seeking  only 
this  sort  of  gratification  rendered  it  daily  more  difficult 
of  attainment,  till  the  passion  for  reading,  like  other 
strong  appetites,  produced  by  indulgence  a  sort  of 
satiety. 

MOONLIGHT. 

There  is,  I  know  not  why,  something  peculiarly 
pleasing  to  the  imagination,  in  contemplating  the  Queen 
of  Night,  when  she  is  loading,  as  the  expression  is, 
among  the  vapors  which  she  has  not  power  to  dispel, 
and  which  on  their  side  are  unable  entirely  to  quench 
her  lustre.  It  is  the  striking  image  of  patient  virtue, 
calmly  pursuing  her  path  through  good  report  and  bad 


44  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

report,  having  that  excellence  in  herself  which  ought  to 
command  all  admiration,  but  bedimmed  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world,  by  suffering,  by  misfortune,  by  calumny. 

LOVE     AND     MARRIAGE. 

Perhaps  the  lover's  pleasure,  like  that  of  the  hunter, 
is  in  the  chase ;  and  the  brightest  beauty  loses  half  its 
merit,  as  the  fairest  flower  its  perfume,  when  the 
willing  hand  can  reach  it  too  easily.  There  must  be 
doubt — there  must  be  danger — there  must  be  difficulty  ; 
and  if,  as  the  poet  says,  the  course  of  ardent  affection 
never  does  run  smooth,  it  is  perhaps  because,  without 
some  intervening  obstacle,  that  which  is  called  the 
romantic  passion  of  love,  in  its  high  poetical  character 
and  coloring,  can  hardly  have  an  existence ; — any 
more  than  there  can  be  a  current  in  a  river,  without  the 
stream  being  narrowed  by  steep  banks,  or  checked  by 
opposing  rocks.  Let  not  those,  however,  who  enter 
into  a  union  for  life  without  those  embarrassments 
which  delight  a  Darsie  Latimer,  or  a  Lydia  Languish, 
and  which  are  perhaps  necessary  to  excite  an  enthusi- 
astic passion  in  breasts  more  firm  than  theirs,  augur 
worse  of  their  future  happiness,  because  their  own  al- 
liance is  formed  under  calmer  auspices.  Mutual  esteem, 
an  intimate  knowledge  of  each  other's  character,  seen? 
as  in  their  case,  undisguised  by  the  mists  of  too  partial 
passion — a  suitable  proportion  of  parties  in  rank  and 
fortune,  in  taste  and  pursuits — are  more  frequently 
found  in  a  marriage  of  reason,  than  in  a  union  of  roman- 
tic attachment;  where  the  imagination,  which  probably 
created  the  virtues  and  accomplishments  with  which  it 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIOXS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  45 

invested  the  beloved  object,  is  frequently  afterwards 
employed  in  magnifying  the  mortifying  consequences 
of  its  own  delusion,  and  exasperating  all  the  stings  of 
disappointment.  Those  who  follow  the  banners  of 
Reason  are  like  the  well-disciplined  battalion,  which, 
wearing  a  more  sober  uniform,  and  making  a  less 
dazzling  show,  than  the  light  troops  commanded  by 
Imagination,  enjoy  more  safety,  and  even  more  honor, 
in  the  conflicts  of  human  life. 

FIRST  DAWN  OF    DAYLIGHT. 

There  is  no  period  at  which  men  look  worse  in  the 
eyes  of  each  other,  or  feel  more  uncomfortable,  than 
when  the  first  dawn  of  daylight  finds  them  watchers. 
Even  a  beauty  of  the  first  order,  after  the  vigils  of  a 
ball  are  interrupted  by  the  dawn,  would  do  wisely  to 
withdraw  herself  from  the  gaze  of  her  fondest  and  most 
partial  admirers. 

SOLITUDE  AND  SOCIETY. 

The  love  of  solitude  was  with  me  a  passion  of  early 
youth;  when  in  my  teens,  I  used  to  fly  from  company 
to  indulge  in  visions  and  airy  casdes  of  my  own,  the 
disposal  of  ideal  wealth,  and  the  exercise  of  imaginary 
power.  This  feeling  prevailed  even  till  I  was  eighteen, 
when  love  and  ambition  awakening  with  other  passions, 
threw  me  more  into  society,  from  which  I  have,  how- 
ever, at  times  withdrawn  myself,  and  have  been  always 
even  glad  to  do  so.  I  have  risen  from  a  feast  satiated ; 
and  unless  it  be  one  or  two  persons  of  very  strong  in- 


46  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

tellect,  or  whose  spirits  and  good-humor  amuse  me,  I 
wish  neither  to  see  the  high,  the  low,  nor  the  middling 
class  of  society.  This  is  a  feeling  without  the  least 
tinge  of  misanthropy,  which  I  always  consider  as  a 
kind  of  blasphemy  of  a  shocking  description.  If  God 
bears  with  the  very  worst  of  us,  we  may  surely  endure 
each  other.  If  thrown  into  society,  I  always  have,  and 
always  will  endeavor  to  bring  pleasure  with  me,  at  least 
to  show  willingness  to  please. 

THE  COMMON   LOT    OF  MANKIND. 

It  is  not  by  corporal  wants  and  infirmities  only  that 
men  of  the  most  distinguished  talents  are  leveled,  du- 
ring their  lifetime,  with  the  common  mass  of  mankind. 
There  are  periods  of  mental  agitation  when  the  firmest 
of  mortals  must  be  ranked  with  the  weakest  of  his 
brethren  ;  and  when,  in  paying  the  general  tax  of  hu- 
manity, his  distresses  are  even  aggravated  by  feeling 
that  he  transgresses,  in  the  indulgence  of  his  grief,  the 
rules  of  religion  and  philosophy,  by  which  he  endeav- 
ors in  general  to  regulate  his  passions  and  his  actions. 

MUSIC. 

I  do  not  know  and  cannot  utter  a  note  of  music  ;  and 
complicated  harmonies  seem  to  me  a  babble  of  con- 
fused though  pleasing  sounds.  Yet  simple  melodies, 
especially  if  connected  with  words  and  ideas,  have  as 
much  eff"ect  on  me  as  on  most  people.  But  then  I  hate 
to  hear  a  young  person  sing  without  feeling  and  ex- 
pression suited  to  the  song.    I  cannot  bear  a  voice  that 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  47 

has  no  more  life  in  it  than  a  pianoforte  or  a  bugle-horn. 
There  is  about  all  the  fine  arts  a  something  of  soul  and 
spirit,  which,  like  the  vital  principle  in  man,  defies  the 
research  of  the  most  critical  anatomist.  You  feel  where 
it  is  not,  yet  you  cannot  describe  what  it  is  you  want. 

PAINTING. 

All  the  fine  arts  have  it  for  their  highest  and  most  le- 
gitimate end  and  purpose,  to  affect  the  human  passions, 
or  smooth  and  alleviate,  for  a  time,  the  near  unquiet 
feelings  of  the  mind — to  excite  wonder,  or  terror,  or 
pleasure,  or  emotion  of  some  kind  or  other.  It  often 
happens  that,  in  the  very  rise  and  origin  of  these  arts, 
as  in  the  instance  of  Homer,  the  principal  object  is  ob- 
tained in  a  degree  not  equaled  by  any  successor.  But 
there  is  a  degree  of  execution,  which,  in  more  refined 
times,  the  poet  or  musician  begins  to  study,  which  gives 
a  value  of  its  own  to  their  productions,  of  a  different 
kind  from  the  rude  strength  of  their  predecessors. 
Poetry  becomes  complicated  in  its  rules — music  learned 
in  its  cadences  and  harmonies — rhetoric  subde  in  its 
periods.  There  is  more  given  to  the  labor  of  executing 
— less  attained  by  the  effect  produced.  Still  the  nobler 
and  popular  end  of  these  arts  is  not  forgotten  ;  and  if 
we  have  some  productions  too  learned — too  recherches 
for  public  feeling — we  have,  every  now  and  then,  mu- 
sic that  electrifies  a  whole  assembly,  eloquence  which 
shakes  the  forum,  and  poetry  which  carries  men  up  to 
the  third  lieaven.  But  in  painting  it  is  different;  it  is 
all  become  a  mystery,  the  secret  of  which  is  lodged  in 
a  few  connoisseurs,  whose  object  is   not  to  praise  the 


48  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

works  of  such  painters  as  produce  eirect  on  mankind  at 
large,  but  to  class  them  according  to  their  proficiency 
in  the  inferior  rules  of  the  art,  which  though  most  ne- 
cessary to  be  taught  and  learned,  should  yet  only  be 
considered  as  the  Gradus  ad  Parnassum,  the  steps  by 
which  the  higher  and  ultimate  object  of  a  great  popular 
effect  is  to  be  attained.  They  have  all  embraced  the 
very  style  of  criticism  which  induced  Michael  Angelo 
to  call  some  Pope  a  poor  creature,  when,  turning  his 
attention  from  the  general  effect  of  a  noble  statue,  his 
Holiness  began  to  criticise  the  hem  of  the  robe.  This 
seems  to  me  the  cause  of  the  decay  of  this  delightful 
art,  especially  in  history,  its  noblest  branch.  As  I 
speak  to  myself,  I  may  say  that  a  painting  should,  to 
be  excellent,  have  something  to  say  to  the  mind  of  a 
man,  like  myself,  well  educated,  and  susceptible  of  those 
feelings  which  anything  strongly  recalling  natural  emo- 
tions is  likely  to  inspire.  But  how  seldom  do  I  see 
anything  that  moves  me  much  !  Wilkie,  the  far  more 
than  Teniers  of  Scotland,  certainly  gave  many  new  ideas. 
So  does  Allan,  though  overwhelmed  with  their  remarks 
about  coloring  and  grouping,  against  which  they  are  not 
willing  to  place  his  general  and  original  merits.  Land- 
seer's  dogs  were  the  most  magnificent  things  I  ever 
saw — leaping,  and  bounding,  and  grinning  on  the  can- 
vas. Leslie  has  great  powers  ;  and  the  scenes  from 
Moliere  by  Newton  are  excellent.  Yet  painting  wants 
a  regenerator — some  one  who  will  sweep  the  cobwebs 
out  of  his  head  before  he  takes  the  pallet,  as  Chantrey 
has  done  in  the  sister  art.  At  present  [1826]  we  are 
painting  pictures  from  the  ancients,  as  authors  in  the 
days  of  Louis  Quatorze  wrote  epic  poems  according  to 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  49 

the  recipe  of  Dacierand  Co.  The  poor  reader  or  spec- 
tator has  no  remedy ;  the  compositions  are  secimdem 
artem;  and  if  he  does  not  like  them,  he  is  no  judge, 
that's  all. 


DISPATCH    IN    BUSINESS. 

You  must  beware  of  stumbling  over  a  propensity 
which  easily  besets  you  from  the  habit  of  not  having 
your  time  fully  employed — I  mean  what  the  women 
very  expressively  call  daivdling.  Your  motto  must  be 
Hoc  age.  Do  instantly  whatever  is  to  be  done,  and 
take  the  hours  of  reflection  or  recreation  after  business, 
and  never  before  it.  When  a  regiment  is  under  march, 
the  rear  is  often  thrown  into  confusion  because  the  front 
do  not  move  steadily  and  without  interruption.  It  is 
the  same  thing  with  business.  If  that  which  is  first  in 
hand  is  not  instantly,  steadily,  and  regularly  dispatched, 
other  things  accumulate  behind  till  affairs  begin  to  press 
all  at  once,  and  no  human  brain  can  stand  the  confusion  ; 
pray  mind  this — it  is  one  of  your  few  weak  points — 
ask  Mrs.  Terry  else.  A  habit  of  the  mind  it  is  which 
is  very  apt  to  beset  men  of  intellect  and  talent,  espe- 
cially when  their  time  is  not  regularly  filled  up,  but 
left  at  their  own  arrangement.  But  it  is  like  the  ivy 
round  the  oak,  and  ends  by  limiting,  if  it  does  not  de- 
stroy, the  power  of  manly  and  necessary  exei'tion.  I 
must  love  a  man  so  well  to  whom  I  offer  such  a  word 
of  advice,  that  I  will  not  apologize  for  it,  but  expect  to 
hear  you  are  become  as  regular  as  a  Dutch  clock — 
hours,  quarters,  minutes,  all  marked  and  appropriated. 


50  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 


REAL  AND  IMAGINARY  ILLS. 

I  was  glad  to  see  Lord  and  Lady  Compton  so  very 
comfortable,  and  surrounded  with  so  fine  a  family,  the 
natural  bond  of  mutual  regard  and  affection.  She  has 
got  very  jolly,  but  otherwise  has  improved  on  her  tra- 
vels. I  had  a  long  chat  with  her,  and  was  happy  to 
find  her  quite  contented  and  pleased  with  the  lot  she 
has  drawn  in  life.  It  is  a  brilliant  one  in  many  re- 
spects to  be  sure  ;  but  still  I  have  seen  the  story  of  the 
poor  woman,  who,  after  all  rational  subjects  of  distress 
had  been  successively  remedied,  tormented  lierself  about 
the  screaming  of  a  neighbor's  peacock — I  say  I  have 
seen  this  so  often  realized  in  actual  life,  that  I  am  more 
afraid  of  my  friends  making  themselves  uncomfortable, 
who  have  only  imaginary  evils  to  indulge,  than  I  am  for 
the  peace  of  those  who,  battling  magnanimously  with 
real  inconvenience  and  danger,  find  a  remedy  in  the 
very  force  of  the  exertions  to  which  their  lot  compels 
them. 

ORIENTAL    ANECDOTE. 

Your  lordship  will  probably  recollect  where  the 
Oriental  tale  occurs,  of  a  sultan  who  consulted  Solo- 
mon on  the  proper  inscription  for  a  signet-ring,  requir- 
ing that  the  maxim  which  it  conveyed  should  be  at 
once  proper  for  moderating  the  presumption  of  pros- 
perity and  tempering  the  pressure  of  adversity.  The 
apophthegm  supplied  by  the  Jewish  sage  was,  I  think, 
admirably  adapted  for  both  purposes,  being  compre- 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  51 

hended    in    the    words,    "And    this     also    shall    pass 
away." 

TRADITION. 

It  is  singular  how  tradition,  which  is  sometimes  a 
sure  guide  to  truth,  is,  in  other  cases,  prone  to  mislead 
us.  In  the  celebrated  field  of  battle  at  Killiecrankie, 
the  traveler  is  struck  with  one  of  those  rugged  pillars 
of  rough  stone,  wJiich  indicate  the  scenes  of  ancient  con- 
flict. A  friend  of  the  author,  well  acquainted  with  the 
circumstances  of  the  battle,  was  standing  near  this  large 
stone,  and  looking  on  the  scenes  around,  when  a  High- 
land shepherd  hurried  down  from  the  hill  to  offer  his 
services  as  cicerone,  and  proceeded  to  inform  him,  that 
Dundee  was  slain  at  that  stone,  which  was  raised  to 
his  memory.  "Fie,  Donald,"  answered  my  friend, 
"how  can  you  tell  such  a  story  to  a  stranger?  I  am 
sure  you  know  well  enough  that  Dundee  was  killed  at 
a  considerable  distance  from  this  place,  near  the  house 
of  Fascally,  and  that  this  stone  was  here  long  before 
the  battle,  in  1688." — "Oich!  oich!"  said  Donald,  no 
way  abashed,"  and  your  honor's  in  the  right,  and  I  see 
you  ken  a'  about  it.  And  he  wasna  killed  on  the  spot 
neither,  but  lived  till  the  next  morning ;  but  a'  the  Saxon 
gentlemen  like  best  to  hear  he  was  kill  at  the  great 
stane." 

ABSURD    DESIRE    FOR    UNIFORMITY. 

This  reminds  us  of  an  incident,  said  to  have  befallen 
at  the  castle  of  Glammis,  when  these  venerable  towers 


52  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

were  inhabited  by  a  certain  old  Earl  of  Strathmore,  who 
was  as  great  an  admirer  of  uniformity  as  the  Chancellor 
of  the  Exchequer  could  have  desired.  He  and  his  gar- 
dener directed  all  in  the  garden  and  pleasure-grounds 
upon  the  ancient  principle  of  exact  correspondence  be- 
tween the  different  parts,  so  that  each  alley  had  its 
brother;  a  principle  which,  renounced  by  gardeners,  is 
now  adopted  by  statesmen.  It  chanced,  once  upon  a 
time,  that  a  fellow  was  caught  committing  some  petty 
theft,  and,  being  taken  in  the  manner,  was  sentenced 
by  the  Bailie  MacWheeble  of  the  jurisdiction  to  stand 
for  a  certain  time  in  the  baronial  pillory,  called  the 
jougs,  being  a  collar  and  chain,  one  of  which  contri- 
vances was  attached  to  each  side  of  the  portal  of  the 
great  avenue  which  led  to  the  castle.  The  thief  was 
turned  over  accordingly  to  the  gardener,  as  ground- 
officer,  to  see  the  punishment  duly  inflicted.  When 
the  Thane  of  Glammis  returned  from  his  morning  ride, 
he  was  surprised  to  find  both  sides  of  the  gateway  ac- 
commodated each  with  a  prisoner,  like  a  pair  of  heral- 
dic supporters  c/irt^ncfZ  and  collared  propc7\  He  asked 
the  gardener,  whom  he  found  watching  the  place  of 
punishment,  as  his  duty  required,  whether  another  de- 
linquent had  been  detected  ?  "  No,  my  lord,"  said  the 
gardener,  in  the  tone  of  a  man  excellently  well  satisfied 
with  himself — "  but  I  thought  the  single  fellow  looked 
very  awkward  standing  on  one  side  of  the  gateway,  so 
I  gave  half-a-crown  to  one  of  the  laborers  to  stand  on 
the  other  side  foi'  uniformity' s  sake.'''' 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  53 


IMPROVEMENT  AND  INNOVATION. 

Seasonable  improvements  are  like  the  timely  and  re- 
gular showers,  which,  falling  softly  and  silently  upon 
the  earth,  when  fittest  to  be  received,  awaken  its  powers 
of  fertility.  Hasty  innovation  is  like  the  headlong 
hurricane,  which  may  indeed  be  ultimately  followed  by 
beneficial  consequences,  but  is  in  its  commencement 
and  immediate  progress  attended  by  terror,  tumult,  and 
distress. 

EXPERIENCE    AND  THEORY. 

I  have  read,  I  think  in  Lucian,  of  two  architects,  who 
contended  before  the  people  at  Athens  which  should  be 
entrusted  with  the  task  of  erecting  a  temple.  The  first 
made  a  luminous  oration,  showing  that  he  was,  in  theory 
at  least,  master  of  his  art,  and  spoke  with  such  glibness 
in  the  hard  terms  of  architecture,  that  the  assembly 
could  scarce  be  prevailed  on  to  listen  to  his  opponent, 
an  old  man  of  upretending  appearance.  But  when  he 
obtained  audience,  he  said  in  a  few  words,  "All  that 
this- young  man  can  talk  of,  I  have  doxe."  The  de- 
cision was  unanimously  in  favor  of  Experience  against 
Theory. 

RAPID    IMPROVEMENT  IN  SCOTLAND. 

There  is  no  European  nation,  which  within  the  course 
of  half  a  century,  or  little  more,  has  undergone  so  com- 
plete a  change  as  this  kingdom  of  Scotland.     The  effects 


54  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

of  the  insurrection  of  1745, — the  destruction  of  the  pa- 
triarchal power  of  the  Highland  chiefs, — the  abolition 
of  the  heritable  jurisdictions  of  the  Lowland  nobility  and 
barons, — the  total  eradication  of  the  Jacobite  party, 
which,  averse  to  intermingle  with  the  English,  or  adopt 
their  customs,  long  continued  to  pride  themselves  upon 
maintaining  ancient  Scottish  manners  and  customs, — 
commenced  this  innovation.  The  gradual  influx  of 
wealth,  and  extension  of  commerce,  have  since  united 
to  render  the  present  people  of  Scotland  a  class  of  beings 
as  different  from  their  grandfathers,  as  the  existing 
English  are  from  those  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  time. 
The  political  and  economical  efTects  of  these  changes 
have  been  traced  by  Lord  Selkirk  with  great  precision 
and  accuracy.  But  the  change,  though  steadily  and 
rapidly  progressive,  has,  nevertheless,  been  gradual ; 
and  like  those  who  drift  down  the  stream  of  a  deep  and 
smooth  river,  we  are  not  aware  of  the  progress  we  have 
made  until  we  fix  our  eye  on  the  now  distant  point  from 
which  we  have  been  drifted.  Such  of  the  present 
generation  as  can  recollect  the  last  twenty  or  twenty-five 
years  of  the  eighteenth  century,  will  be  fully  sensible 
of  the  truth  of  this  statement;  especially  if  their  ac- 
quaintance and  connections  lay  among  those  who,  in  my 
younger  time,  were  facetiously  called  "  folks  of  the  old 
leaven,"  who  still  cherished  a  lingering,  though  hope- 
less attachment,  to  the  house  of  Stuart.  This  race  has 
now  almost  entirely  vanished  from  the  land,  and  with 
it,  doubtless,  much  absurd  political  prejudice ;  but  also, 
many  living  examples  of  singular  and  disinterested  at- 
tachment to   the  principles  of  loyalty  which  they  re- 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  55 

ceived  from  their  fathers  and  of  old  Scottish  faith,  hos- 
pitality, worth,  and  honor. 

ADVICE    TO    A    SON.* 

Professional  Pedantry. — "  Do  not  fall  into  the  error 
and  pedantry  of  young  military  men,  vpho,  living  much 
together,  are  apt  to  think  themselves  and  their  actions 
the  subject  of  much  talk  and  rumor  among  the  public 
at  large. — I  will  transcribe  Fielding's  account  of  such 
a  person,  whom  he  met  with  on  his  voyage  to  Lisbon, 
which  will  give  two  or  three  hours'  excellent  amuse- 
ment when  you  choose  to  peruse  it : — '  In  his  conver- 
sation it  is  true  there  Avas  something  military  enough, 
as  it  consisted  chiefly  of  oaths,  and  of  the  great  actions 
and  wise  sayings  of  Jack  Will,  and  Tom  of  ours,  a 
phrase  eternally  in  his  mouth,  and  he  seemed  to  con- 
clude that  it  conveyed  to  all  the  officers  such  a  degree 
of  public  notoriety  and  importance  that  it  entitled  him, 
like  the  head  of  a  profession,  or  a  first  minister,  to  be 
the  subject  of  conversation  among  those  who  had  not 
the  least  personal  acquaintance  with  him.'  Avoid  this 
silly  narrowness  of  mind,  my  dear  boy,  Avhich  only 
makes  men  be  looked  on  in  the  world  with  ridicule  and 
contempt.  Lawyer  and  gossip  as  I  may  be,  I  suppose 
you  will  allow  I  have  seen  something  of  life  in  most 
of  its  varieties ;  as  much  at  least  as  if  I  had  been,  like 
you,  eighteen  months  in  a  cavalry  regiment,  or  like 
Beau   Jackson  in  Roderick  Random,  had  cruized  for 

*  From  Sir  Walter^Scott's  Letters  to  his  eldest  son,  then  a  cor- 
net in  the  18th  Hussars. 


56  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

half-a-year  in  the  chops  of  the  Channel.  Now,  I  have 
never  remarked  any  one,  be  he  soldier  or  divine,  or 
lawyer,  that  was  exclusively  attached  to  the  narrow 
habits  of  his  own  profession,  but  what  such  person 
became  a  great  twaddle  in  good  society,  besides  what 
is  of  much  more  importance,  becoming  narrow-minded 
and  ignorant  of  all  general  information." 

Value  of  Time  and  Study. — "  The  hours  of  youth, 
ray  dear  Walter,  are  too  precious  to  be  spent  all  in 
gayety.  We  must  lay  up  in  that  period  when  our  spirit 
is  active,  and  our  memory  strong,  the  stores  of  informa- 
tion which  are  not  only  to  facilitate  our  progress  through 
life,  but  to  amuse  and  interest  us  in  our  later  stage  of 
existence.  I  very  often  tliink  what  an  unhappy  person 
I  should  have  been,  if  I  had  not  done  something  more 
or  less  towards  improving  my  understanding  when  I 
was  at  your  age  ;  and  I  never  reflect,  without  severe 
self-condemnation,  on  the  opportunities  of  acquiring 
knowledge  which  I  either  trifled  with,  or  altogether 
neglected.  I  hope  you  will  be  wiser  than  I  have  been, 
and  experience  less  of  that  self-reproach.* 

*  Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  his  Autobiography,  thus  expresses  his  regret 
for  his  partial  negligence  as  a  student : — "  If  my  learning  be  flimsy 
and  inaccurate,  the  reader  must  have  some  compassion  even  for 
an  ilde  workman,  who  had  so  narrow  a  foundation  to  build  upon. 
If,  however,  it  should  ever  fall  to  the  lot  of  youth  to  peruse 
these  pages — let  such  a  reader  remember  that  it  is  with  the  deepest 
regret  that  I  recollect  in  my  manhood  the  opportunities  of  learning 
which  I  neglected  in  my  youth ;  that  through  every  part  of  my 
literary  career  I  have  felt  pinched  and  hampered  by  my  own 
ignorance;  and  that  I  would  at  this  moment  give  half  the  reputa- 
tation  I  have  had  the  good  fortune  to  acquire,  if  by  doing  so  I 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  57 

"  It  is  astonishing  how  far  even  half  an  hour  a-daj-, 
regularly  bestowed  on  one  object,  will  carry  a  man  in 
making  himself  master  of  it.  The  habit  of  dawdling 
away  time  is  easily  acquired,  and  so  is  that  of  putting 
every  moment  either  to  use  or  to  amusement." 

Forming  Acquaintances. — "  You  will  not  be  hasty 
in  forming  intimacies  with  any  of  your  brother  officers, 
until  you  observe  which  of  them  are  most  generally  re- 
spected, and  likely  to  prove  most  creditable  friends.  It 
is  seldom  that  the"  people  who  put  themselves  hastily 
forward  to  please,  are  those  most  worthy  of  being  known. 
At  the  same  time  you  will  take  care  to  return  all  civili- 
ty which  is  offered,  with  readiness  and  frankness.  The 
Italians  have  a  pil»verb,  which  I  hope  you  have  not 
forgot  poor  Pierrotti's  lessons  so  far  as  not  to  compre- 
hend— '■Volto  Sciolto  e  pensieri  stretti.''  There  is  no 
occasion  to  let  any  one  see  what  you  exactly  think  of 
him ;  and  it  is  the  less  prudent,  as  you  will  find  reason, 
in  all  probability,  to  change  your  opinion  more  than 
once." 

Servants. — "  I  wish  much  to  know  if  you  are  lucky 
in  a  servant.  Trust  him  with  as  little  cash  as  possible, 
and  keep  short  accounts.  Many  a  good  servant  is  spoil- 
ed by  neglecting  this  simple  precaution.  The  man  is 
tempted  to  some  expense  of  his  own,  gives  way  to  it, 
and  then  has  to  make  it  up  by  a  system  of  overcharge 
and  peculation  ;  and  thus  mischief  begins,  and  the  care- 
could  rest  the  remaining  part  upon  a  sound  foundation  of  learning 
and  science." 


58  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

lessness  of  the  master  makes  a  rogue  out  of  an  honest 
lad,  and  cheats  himself  into  the  bargain." 

Punctuality  in  Payments. — "  Some  small  accompts 
of  yours  have  come  in.  This  is  wrong — you  ought  never 
to  leave  a  country  without  clearing  every  penny  of  debt; 
and  you  have  no  apology  for  doing  so,  as  you  are  never 
refused  what  I  can  afford.  When  you  can  get  a  troop, 
I  shall  expect  you  to  maintain  yourself  without  farther 
recourse  on  me,  except  in  the  case  of  extraordinary  ac- 
cident; so  that,  without  pinching  yourself,  you  must 
learn  to  keep  all  your  expenses  within  your  income ;  it 
is  a  lesson  which  if  not  learned  in  youth  lays  up  much 
bitter  regret  for  age." 

"  It  is  rather  a  tiresome  thing  at  first  to  keep  an  ac- 
compt  of  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence,  but  it  is  highly 
necessary,  and  enables  one  to  see  how  the  money  ac- 
tually goes.  It  is,  besides,  a  good  practical  way  of 
keeping  up  acquaintance  with  arithmetic,  and  you  will 
soon  find  that  the  principles  on  which  all  military 
movements  turn  are  arithmetical,  and  that  though  one 
may  no  doubt  learn  to  do  tliem  by  rote,  yet  to  under- 
stand them  you  must  have  recourse  to  numbers." 

Effects  of  Intemperance. — "A  man  may  be  violent 
and  outrageous  in  his  liquor,  but  wine  seldom  makes  a 
gentleman  a  blackguard,  or  instigates  a  loyal  man  to 
utter  sedition.  Wine  unveils  the  passions  and  throws 
away  restraint,  but  it  does  not  create  habits  or  opinions 
which  did  not  previously  exist  in  the  mind.  Besides, 
what  sort  of  defence  is  this  of  intemperance  ?  I  suppose 
if  a  private  commits  riot,  or  is  disobedient  in  his  cups, 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  59 

liis  officers  do  not  admit  whisky  to  be  an  excuse.  I 
have  seen  enough  of  that  sort  of  society  where  habitual 
indulgence  drowned  at  last  every  distinction  between 
what  is  worthy  and  unworthy,  and  I  have  seen  young 
men  with  the  fairest  prospects  turn  out  degraded,  mise- 
rable outcasts  before  their  life  was  half  spent,  merely  from 
soaking  and  sotting,  and  the  bad  habits  these  naturally 
lead  to." 

Conduct  ivhcn  Abroad. — "  Having  the  advantage  of 
good  introductions  to  foreigners  of  distinction,  I  hope 
you  will  not  follow  the  established  English  fashion  of 
herding  with  your  countrymen,  and  neglecting  the  op- 
portunity of  extending  your  acquaintance  with  the 
language  and  society.  There  is,  I  own,  a  great  tempta- 
tion to  this  in  a  strange  country ;  but  it  is  destructive 
of  all  the  purposes  for  which  the  expense  and  trouble 
of  foreign  travel  are  incurred.  Labor  particularly  at 
the  German,  as  the  French  can  be  acquired  elsewhere; 
but  I  should  rather  say,  work  hard  at  both.  It  is  not, 
I  think,  likely,  though  it  is  possible,  that  you  may  fall 
into  company  with  some  of  the  Tetes  echauffees,  who 
are  now  so  common  in  Germany — men  that  would  pull 
down  the  whole  political  system  in  order  to  rebuild  it 
on  a  better  model :  a  proposal  about  as  wild  as  that  of 
a  man  who  should  propose  to  change  the  bridle  of  a 
furious  horse,  and  commence  his  labors  by  slipping  the 
headstall  in  the  midst  of  a  heath.  Prudence,  as  well  as 
principle  and  my  earnest  desire,  will  induce  you  to 
avoid  this  class  of  politicians,  who,  I  know,  are  always 
on  the  alert  to  kidnap  young  men." 


60  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 


"  I  rely  upon  it  tliat  you  are  now  working  hard  in  the 
classical  mine,  getting  out  the  rubbish  as  fast  as  you  can, 
and  preparing  yourself  to  collect  the  ore.  I  cannot  too 
much  impress  upon  your  mind  that  labor  is  the  con- 
dition which  God  has  imposed  on  us  in  every  station  of 
life — there  is  nothing  worth  having  that  can  be  had 
without  it,  from  the  bread  which  the  peasant  wins  with 
the  sweat  of  his  brow,  to  the  sports  by  which  the  rich 
man  must  get  rid  of  his  ennui.  The  only  difference 
betwixt  them  is,  that  the  poor  man  labors  to  get  a  din- 
ner to  his  appetite,  the  rich  man  to  get  an  appetite  to  his 
dinner.  As  for  knowledge,  it  can  no  more  be  planted 
in  the  human  mind  without  labor,  than  a  field  of  wheat 
can  be  produced  without  the  previous  use  of  the  plough. 
There  is  indeed  this  great  difference,  that  chance  or 
circumstances  may  so  cause  it  that  another  shall  reap 
what  the  farmer  sows  ;  but  no  man  can  be  deprived, 
whether  by  accident  or  misfortune,  of  the  fruits  of  his 
own  studies ;  and  the  liberal  and  extended  acquisitions 
of  knowledge  which  he  makes  are  all  for  his  own  use. 
Labor,  my  dear  boy,  therefore,  and  improve  the  time. 
In  youth  our  steps  are  light,  and  our  minds  are  ductile, 
and  knowledge  is  easily  laid  up.  But  if  we  neglect  our 
spring,  our  summers  will  be  useless  and  contemptible, 
our  harvest  will  be  chaff,  and  the  winter  of  our  old  age 
unrespected  and  desolate." 

"  You  must  not  be  too  much  disconcerted  with  the 

*  From  Sir  Walter  Scott's  Letters  to  his  son  Charles  Scott. 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  61 

apparent  dryness  of  your  immediate  studies.  Language 
is  the  great  mark  by  which  man  is  distinguished  from 
the  beasts,  and  a  strict  acquaintance  with  the  manner 
in  which  it  is  composed,  becomes,  as  you  follow  it  a 
little  way,  one  of  the  most  curious  and  interesting  exer- 
cises of  the  intellect. 

"  I  am  glad  to  find,  by  your  letter,  just  received,  that 
you  are  reading  Tacitus  with  some  relish.  His  style 
is  rather  quaint  and  enigmatical,  which  makes  it  difficult 
to  the  student ;  but  then  his  pages  are  filled  with  such 
admirable  apophthegms  and  maxims  of  political  wisdom 
as  infer  the  deepest  knowledge  of  human  nature;  and  it 
is  particularly  necessary  that  any  one  who  may  have 
views  as  a  public  speaker  should  be  master  of  his  works, 
as  there  is  neither  ancient  nor  modern  who  affords  such 
a  selection  of  admirable  quotations.  You  should  exer- 
cise yourself  frequently  in  trying  to  make  translations 
of  the  passages  which  most  strike  you,  trying  to  invest 
the  sense  of  Tacitus  in  as  good  English  as  you  can. 
This  will  answer  the  double  purpose  of  making  your- 
self familiar  with  the  Latin  author,  and  giving  you  the 
command  of  your  own  language,  which  no  person  will 
ever  have  who  does  not  study  English  composition  in 
early  life." 


G2 


POETRY. 


GATHERING  OF  CLAN-ALPINE. 

Far  up  the  lengthen'd  lake  were  spied 
Four  darkening  specks  upon  the  tide, 
That,  slow  enlarging  on  the  view, 
Four  mann'd  and  masted  barges  grew. 
And,  bearing  downwards  from  Glengyle, 
Steer'd  full  upon  the  lonely  isle  ; 
The  point  of  Brianchoil  they  pass'd. 
And,  to  the  windwards  as  they  cast, 
Against  tlie  sun  they  gave  to  shine 
The  bold  Sir  Roderick's  banner'd  Fine, 
Nearer  and  nearer  as  they  bear. 
Spear,  pikes,  and  axes  flash  in  air. 
Now  might  you  see  the  tartans  brave, 
And  plaids  and  plumage  dance  and  wave  : 
Now  see  the  bonnets  sink  and  rise. 
As  his  tough  oar  the  rower  plies  ; 
See,  flashing  at  each  sturdy  stroke, 
The  wave  ascending  into  smoke ; 
See  the^  proud  pipers  on  the  bow. 
And  mark  the  gaudy  streamers  flow 
From  their  loud  chanters  down,  and  sweep 
The  furrow'd  bosom  of  the  deep. 
As,  rushing  through  the  lake  amain, 
They  plied  the  ancient  Highland  strain. 


POETRY. 

Ever,  as  on  they  bore,  more  loud 
And  louder  rung  the  pibroch  proud. 
At  first  the  sound,  by  distance  tame, 
Mellow'd  along  the  waters  came, 
And,  lingering  long  by  cape  and  bay, 
Wail'd  every  harsher  note  away  ; 
Then  bursting  bolder  on  the  ear. 
The  clan's  shrill  gathering  they  could  hear; 
Those  thrilling  sounds  that  call  the  might 
Of  old  Clan-Alpine  to  the  fight. 
Thick  beat  the  rapid  notes,  as  when 
The  mustering  hundreds  shake  the  glen, 
And,  hurrying  at  the  signal  dread, 
The  batter'd  earth  returns  their  tread. 
Then  prelude  light,  of  livelier  tone, 
Express'd  their  merry  marching  on, 
Ere  peal  of  closing  battle  rose. 
With  mingled  outcry,  shrieks,  and  blows ; 
And  mimic  din  of  stroke  and  ward, 
As  broad  sword  upon  target  jarr'd; 
And  groaning  pause,  ere  yet  again, 
Condensed,  the  batUe  yell'd  amain ; 
The  rapid  charge,  the  rallying  shout, 
Retreat  borne  headlong  into  rout ; 
And  bursts  of  triumph,  to  declare 
Clan-Alpine's  conquest — all  were  there. 
Nor  ended  thus  the  strain;  but  slow, 
Sunk  in  a  moan  prolong'd  and  low. 
And  changed  the  conquering  clarion  swell, 
For  wild  lament  o'er  those  that  fell. 
The  war-pipes  ceased;  but  lake  and  hill 
Were  busy  with  their  echoes  still ; 


63 


64  POETRY. 

And,  when  they  slept,  a  vocal  strain 
Bade  their  hoarse  chorus  wake  agfain. 
While  loud  a  hundred  clansmen  raise 
Their  voices  in  their  chieftain's  praise. 
Each  boatman,  bending  to'his  oar, 
With  measured  sweep  the  burden  bore. 
In  such  wild  cadence,  as  the  breeze 
Makes  through  December's  leafless  trees. 
The  chorus  first  could  Allan  know, 
"Roderick  Vich  Alpine,  ho!  iro!" 
And  near,  and  nearer  as  they  row'd 
Distinct  the  martial  ditty  flow'd : 

Hail  to  the  chief  who  in  triumph  advances ! 

Honor'd  and  bless'd  be  the  ever-ereen  Pine ! 
Long  may  the  tree,  in  his  banner  that  glances. 
Flourish,  the  shelter  and  grace  of  our  line ! 

Heaven  send  it  happy  dew. 

Earth  lend  it  sap  anew, 
Gayly  to  bourgeon,  and  broadly  to  grow. 

While  every  Highland  glen 

Sends  our  shout  back  agen, 
"Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  dhu,  ho!  ieroe!"* 

*  Besides  Ijis  ordinary  name  and  stirname,  which  were  chiefly 
used  in  the  intercourse  with  the  Lowlands,  every  Highland  chief 
had  an  epithet  expressive  of  his  patriarchal  dignity  as  head  of  the 
clan,  and  which  was  common  to  all  his  predecessors  and  succes- 
sors, as  Pharaoh  to  the  kings  of  Egypt,  or  Arsaces  to  those  of 
Parthia.  This  name  was  usually  a  patronymic,  expressive  of  his 
descent  from  the  founder  of  the  family.  Thus  the  Duke  of  Argyle 
is  called  MacCalhim  More,  or  the  son  of  Colin  the  Great.  Some- 
times however,  it  is  derived  from  armorial  distinctions,  or  the 


POETRY.  65 

Ours  is  no  sapling,  chance-sown  by  the  fountain, 

Blooming  at  Beltane,  in  winter  to  fade  ; 
When  the  whirlwind  has  stripp'd  every  leaf  on  the 
mountain, 
The  more  shall  Clan-Alpine  exult  in  her  shade. 
Moor'd  in  the  rifted  rock. 
Proof  to  the  tempest's  shock, 
Firmer  he  roots  him  the  ruder  it  blow ; 
Menteith  and  Breadalbane,  then, 
Echo  his  praise  agen, 
"Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  dhu,  ho  !  ieroe  !" 

Proudly  our  pibroch  has  thrill'd  in  Glen  Fruin, 

And  Bannochar's  groans  to  our  slogan  replied  ; 
Glen  Luss  and  Ross-dhu,  they  are  smoking  in  ruin, 
And  the  best  of  Loch  Lomond  lie  dead  on  our  side. 
Widow  and  Saxon  maid 
Long  shall  lament  our  raid, 
Think  of  Clan-Alpine  with  fear  and  with  woe  ; 

memory  of  some  great  feat;  thus  Lord  Seafortli,  as  chief  of  the 
Mackenzies,  or  Clan-Kennet,  bears  the  epithet  of  Caberfae,  or 
Buck's  Head,  as  representative  of  Colin  Fitzgerald,  founder  of  the 
family,  who  saved  the  Scottish  king  when  endangered  by  a  stag. 
But  besides  this  title,  which  belonged  to  his  ofEce  and  dignity, 
the  chieftain  had  usually  another  peculiar  to  himself,  which  dis- 
tinguished him  from  the  chieftains  of  the  same  race.  This  was 
sometimes  derived  from  complexion,  as  dim  or  roy;  sometimes  from 
size,  as  beg  or  more-  at  other  times  from  some  peculiar  exploit,  or 
from  some  peculiarity  of  habit  or  appearance.  The  line  of  the 
text  therefore  signifies,  "  Black  Roderick,  the  descendant  of  Al- 
pine." 

The  song  itself  is  intended  as  an  imitation  of  the  jorrams,  or 
boat  songs  of  the  Highlanders. 


66  POETRY. 

Lennox  and  Leven-glen 
Shake  when  they  hear  agen, 
"  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  dhu,  ho !  ieroe  !" 

Row,  vassals,  row,  for  the  pride  of  the  Highlands ! 

Stretch  lo  your  oars,  for  the  ever-green  Pine ! 
O  that  the  rose-bud  that  graces  yon  islands 

Were  wreathed  in  a  garland  around  him  to  twine  ! 

O  that  some  seedling  gem, 

Worthy  such  noble  stem, 
Honor'd  and  bless'd  in  their  shadow  might  grow  ! 

Loud  should  Clan-Alpine  then 

Ring  from  the  deepmost  glen, 
"  Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  dhu,  ho !  ieroe  !" 

DEATH  OF    RODERICK    DHU. 

As  the  tall  ship,  whose  lofty  prore 
Shall  never  stem  the  billows  more. 
Deserted  by  her  gallant  band. 
Amid  the  breakers  lies  astrand, — 
So,  on  his  couch,  lay  Roderick  Dhu  ! 
And  oft  his  fever'd  limbs  he  threw 
In  toss  abrupt,  as  when  her  sides 
Lie  rocking  in  the  advancing  tides, 
That  shake  her  frame  with  ceaseles  beat, 
Yet  cannot  heave  her  from  the  seat ; — 
O  !  how  unlike  her  course  at  sea  ! 
Or  his  free  step  on  hill  and  lea  ! 
Oft  had  he*  stolen  a  glance,  to  spy 
How  Roderick  brook'd  his  minstrelsy  : 

•  The  Minstrel. 


POETRY.  G7 

At  first,  the  Chieftain,  to  the  chime, 

With  lifted  hand,  kept  feeble  time  ; 

That  motion  ceased, — yet  feeling  strong 

Varied  his  look  as  changed  the  song  ; 

At  length,  no  more  his  deafen'd  ear 

The  minstrel  melody  can  hear  ; 

His  face  grows  sharp, — his  hands  are  clench'd, 

As  if  some  pang  his  heart-strings  wrench'd  ; 

Set  are  his  teeth,  his  fading  eye 

Is  sternly  fix'd  on  vacancy  ; 

Thus,  motionless,  and  moanless,  drew 

His  parting  breath,  stout  Roderick  Dhu  !* 

THE    COUONACH.t 

He  is  gone  on  the  mountain. 
He  is  lost  to  the  forest, 

*  "  Rob  Roy,  while  on  his  death-bed,  learned  that  a  person, 
with  whom  he  was  at  enmity,  proposed  to  visit  him.  'Raise  me 
from  my  bed,'  said  the  invalid;  '  throw  my  plaid  around  me,  and 
bring  me  iny  claymore,  dirk,  and  pistols, — it  shall  never  be  said 
that  a  foeman  saw  Rob  Roy  MacGregor  defenceless  and  unarmed. ' 
— His  foeman,  conjectured  to  be  one  of  the  MacLarens,  entered 
and  paid  his  compliments,  inquiring  after  the  health  of  his  for- 
midable neighbor.  Rob  Roy  maintained  a  cold  haughty  civility 
during  their  short  conference ;  and  so  soon  as  he  had  left  the 
house,  'Now,'  he  said,  'all  is  over — let  .the  piper  play  Ha  til  mi 
tulidli  [we  return  no  more],  and  he  is  said  to  have  expired  before 
the  dirge  was  finished." — Introduction  to  Rob  Boy. 

t  The  Coronach  of  the  Highlanders,  like  the  Ulalatus  of  the 
Romans,  and  the  Ululoo  of  the  Irish,  M-as  a  wild  expression  of  la- 
mentation, poured  forth  by  the  mourners  over  the  body  of  a  de- 
parted friend.  When  the  words  of  it  were  articulate,  they  ex- 
pressed the  praises  of  the  deceased,  and  the  loss  the  clan  would 
sustain  by  his  death. 


68  POETRY. 

Like  a  summer-dried  fountain, 

When  our  need  was  the  sorest. 
The  font  reappearing, 

Fi'om  the  rain-drops  shall  borrow, 
But  to  us  comes  no  cheering, 

To  Duncan  no  morrow  ! 
The  hand  of  the  reaper 

Takes  the  ears  that  are  hoary, 
But  the  voice  of  the  weeper 

Wails  manhood  in  glory. 
The  autumn  winds  rushing 

Waft  the  leaves  that  are  searest, 
But  our  flower  was  in  flushing, 

When  blighting  was  nearest. 

Fleet  foot  on  the  correi,* 

Sage  counsel  in  cumber, 
Red  hand  in  the  foray. 

How  sound  is  thy  slumber  ! 
Like  the  dew  on  the  mountain, 

Like  the  foam  on  the  river, 
Like  the  bubble  on  the  fountain, 

Thou  art  gone,  and  for  ever ! 

CADYOW  CASTLE DEATH  OF  THE  REGENT  MURRAY. 

The  ruins  of  Cadyow  or  Cadzow  Castle,  the  ancient  baronial 
residence  of  the  family  of  Hamilton,  are  situated  upon  the  pre- 
cipitous banks  of  the  river  Evan,  about  two  miles  above  its  junc- 
tion with  the  Clyde.     It  was  dismantled,  in  the  conclusion  of  the 

*  Or  corri — the  hollow  side  of  the  hill,  where  game  usually 
lies. 


POETRY.  69 

Civil  Wars,  during  the  reign  of  the  unfortunate  Mary,  to  whose 
cause  the  house  of  Hamihon  devoted  themselves  with  a  generous 
zeal,  which  occasioned  their  temporary  obscurity,  and  very  nearly 
their  total  ruin.  The  situation  of  the  ruins,  embosomed  in  wood, 
darkened  by  ivy  and  creeping  shrubs,  and  overhanging  the  brawl- 
ing torrent,  is  romantic  in  the  highest  degree.  In  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  Cadyow  is  a  grove  of  immense  oaks,  the  remains  of 
the  Caledonian  Forest,  which  anciently  extended  through  the 
south  of  Scotland,  from  the  eastern  to  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  Some 
of  these  trees  measure  twenty-five  feet,  and  upwards,  in  circum- 
ference; and  the  state  of  decay  in  which  they  now  appear,  shows 
that  they  have  witnessed  the  rites  of  the  Druids.  The  whole 
scenery  is  included  in  the  magnificent  and  extensive  park  of  the 
Duke  of  Hamilton.  There  was  long  preserved  in  this  forest  the 
breed  of  the  Scottish  wild  cattle,  until  their  ferocity  occasioned 
their  being  extirpated  about  forty  years  ago.  Their  appearance 
was  beautiful,  being  milk  white,  with  black  muzzles,  horns,  and 
hoofs.  The  bulls  are  described  by  ancient  authors  as  having 
white  manes;  but  those  of  latter  days  had  lost  that  peculiarity, 
perhaps  by  intermixture  with  the  tame  breed. 

In  detailing  the  death  of  the  Regent  Murray,  which  is  made 
the  subject  of  the  following  ballad,  it  would  be  injustice  to  my 
reader  to  use  other  words  than  those  of  Dr.  Robertson,  whose  ac- 
count of  that  memorable  event  forms  a  beautiful  piece  of  historical 
painting. 

"Hamilton  of  Bothwellhaugh  was  the  person  who  committed 
this  barbarous  action.  He  had  been  condemned  to  death  soon 
after  the  battle  of  Langside,  as  we  have  already  related,  and  owed 
his  life  to  the  Regent's  clemency.  But  part  of  his  estate  had  been 
bestowed  upon  one  of  the  Regent's  favorites,*  who  seized  his 
house,  and  turned  out  his  wife,  naked,  in  a  cold  night,  into  the 
open  fields,  where,  before  next  morning,  she  became  furiously 
mad.  This  injury  made  a  deeper  impression  on  him  than  the 
benefit  he  had  received,  and  from   that  moment  he  vowed  to  be 

*  This  was  Sir  James  Bellenden,  Lord  Justice-Clerk,  whose  shameful 
and  inhuman  rapacity  occasioned  the  catastrophe  in  the  text.— Sportis- 
woode. 


70  POETRY. 

revenged  of  the  Regent.  Party  rage  strengthened  and  inflamed 
his  private  resentment.  His  kinsmen,  the  Hamiltons,  applauded 
the  enterprise.  Tlie  maxims  of  that  age  justified  the  most  des- 
perate course  he  could  take  to  obtain  vengeance.  He  followed 
the  Regent  for  some  time,  and  watched  for  an  oijportimity  to  strike 
the  blow.  He  resolved  at  last  to  wait  till  his  enemy  should  arrive 
at  Linlithgow,  through  which  he  was  to  pass  in  his  way  from 
Stirling  to  Edinburgh.  He  took  his  stand  in  a  wooden  gallery,* 
VI' Inch  had  a  window  towards  the  street ;  spread  a  feather-bed  on 
the  floor  to  hinder  the  noise  of  his  feet  from  being  heard;  hung  up 
a  black  cloth  behind  him,  that  his  shadow  might  not  be  observed 
from  without;  and  after  all  this  preparation,  calmly  expected  the 
Regent's  approach,  who  had  lodged,  during  the  night,  in  a  house 
not  far  distant.  Some  indistinct  information  of  the  danger  which 
threatened  him  had  been  conveyed  to  the  Regent,  and  he  paid  so 
much  regard  to  it,  that  he  resolved  to  return  by  the  same  gate 
through  which  he  liad  entered,  and  to  fetch  a  compass  round  the 
town.  But,  as  the  crowd  about  the  gate  was  great,  and  he  him- 
self unacquainted  with  fear,  he  proceeded  directly  along  the  street; 
and  the  throng  of  people  obliging  him  to  move  very  slowly,  gave 
the  assassin  time  to  take  so  true  an  aim,  that  he  shot  him  with  a 
single  bullet,  through  the  lower  part  of  his  belly,  and  killed  the 
horse  of  a  gentleman  who  rode  on  his  other  side.  His  followers 
instantly  endeavored  to  break  into  the  house  whence  tlie  blow 
had  come  ;  but  they  found  the  door  strongly  barricadoed,  and,  be- 
fore it  could  be  forced  open,  Hamilton  had  mounted  a  fleet  horse, 
which  stood  ready  for  him  at  a  back  passage,  and  was  got  far  be- 
yond their  reach.  The  Regent  died  the  same  night  of  his  wound.-j- 
"  Bothwellliaugh  rode  straight  to  Hamilton,  where  he  was  re- 
ceived in  triumph ;  for  the  ashes  of  the  houses  in  Clydesdale, 
which  had  been  burned  by  Murray's  army,  were   yet  smoking; 

*  This  projecting  gallery  is  still  shown.  The  house  to  which  it  was  at- 
tached was  the  property  of  the  Archbishop  of  St.  Andrew's,  a  natural 
brother  to  the  Diike  of  Chatelherault,  and  uncle  to  Bothwellliaugh.  This, 
among  many  other  circumstances,  seems  lo  evince  the  aid  which  Both- 
wellhaugh  received  from  his  clan  in  elfecling  his  purpose. 

t  The  Regent's  death  happened  on  23d  January,  15G9. 


POETRY.  71 

and  party  prejudice,  the  habits  of  the  age,  and  the  enormity  of 
the  provocation,  seemed  to  his  kinsmen  to  justify  his  deed.  After 
a  short  abode  at  Hamilton,  this  fierce  and  determined  man  left 
Scotland,  and  served  in  France,  under  the  patronage  of  the  family 
of  Guise,  to  whom  he  was  doubtless  recommended  by  having 
avenged  the  cause  of  their  niece,  Queen  Mary,  upon  her  ungrate- 
ful brother.  De  Thou  has  recorded,  that  an  attempt  was  made  to 
engage  him  to  assassinate  Gaspar  de  Coligni,  the  famous  Admiral 
of  France,  and  the  buckler  of  the  Huguenot  cause.  But  the  cha- 
racter of  Bothwellhaugh  was  mistaken.  He  was  no  mercenary 
trader  in  blood,  and  rejected  the  offer  with  contempt  and  indigna- 
tion. He  had  no  authority,  he  said,  from  Scotland  to  commit  mur- 
ders in  France;  he  had  avenged  his  own  just  quarrel,  but  he 
■would  neither,  for  price  nor  prayer,  avenge  that  of  another  man." 
— Thuanus,  cap.  46, 


CADYOW  CASTLE. 

ADDRESSED  TO 
THE  RIGHT  HON.  LADT  ANN  HAMILTON.* 

When  princely  Hamilton's  abode 
Ennobled  Cadyow's  Gothic  towers, 

The  song  went  round,  the  goblet  flow'd, 
And  revel  sped  the  laughing  hours. 

Then,  thrilling  to  the  harp's  gay  sound, 
So  sweetly  rung  each  vaulted  wall. 

And  echoed  light  the  dancer's  bound, 
As  mirth  and  music  cheer'd  the  hall. 

But  Cadyow's  towers,  in  ruins  laid, 
And  vaults,  by  ivy  mantled  o'er, 

'  Eldest  daughter  of  Archibald,  ninth  Duke  of  Hamilton. 


72  POETRY. 

Thrill  to  the  music  of  the  shade, 
Or  echo  Evan's  hoarser  roar. 

Yet  still,  of  Cadyow's  faded  fame, 
You  bid  me  tell  a  minstrel  tale. 

And  tune  my  harp,  of  Border  frame, 
On  the  wild  banks  of  Evandale. 

Then,  noble  maid  !  at  thy  command, 
Again  the  crumbled  halls  shall  rise  ; 

Lo  !   as  on  Evan's  banks  we  stand. 
The  past  returns — the  present  flies. 

Where,  with  the  rock's  wood-cover'd  side. 
Were  blended  late  the  ruins  green. 

Rise  turrets  in  fantastic  pride, 

And  feudal  banners  flaunt  between  : 

There  the  rude  torrent's  brawling  course 
Was  shagg'd  with  thorn  and  tangling  sloe. 

The  ashler  buttress  braves  its  force. 
And  ramparts  frown  in  battled  row. 

'Tis  night — the  shade  of  keep  and  spire 
Obscurely  dance  on  Evan's  stream  ; 

And  on  the  wave  the  warder's  fire 
Is  checkering  the  moonlight  beam. 

Fades  slow  their  light ;  the  east  is  gray  ; 

The  weary  warder  leaves  his  tower  ; 
Steeds  snort;  uncoupled  stag-hounds  bay, 

And  merry  hunters  quit  the  bower. 


POETRY.  73 

The  drawbridge  falls — they  hurry  out — 
Clatters  each  plank  and  swinging  chain, 

As,  dashing  o'er,  the  jovial  rout 

Urge  the  shy  steed,  and  slack  the  rein. 

First  of  his  troop,  the  Chief  rode  on  ; 

His  shouting  merry-men  throng  behind  ; 
The  steed  of  Princely  Hamilton 

Was  fleeter  than  the  mountain  wind. 

Through  the  huge  oaks  of  Evandale, 

Whose  limbs  a  thousand  years  have  worn, 

What  sullen  roar  comes  down  the  gale, 
And  drowns  the  hunter's  pealing  horn  ? 

Mightiest  of  all  the  beasts  of  chase, 

That  roam  in  woody  Caledon, 
Crashing  the  forest  in  his  race. 

The  Mountain  Bull  comes  thundering  on. 

Fierce,  on  the  hunter's  quiver'd  band, 
He  rolls  his  eyes  of  swarthy  glow, 

Spurns,  with  black  hoof  and  horn,  the  sand. 
And  tosses  high  his  mane  of  snow, 

Aim'd  well,  the  Chieftain's  lance  has  flown; 

Struggling  in  blood  the  savage  lies  ; 
His  roar  is  sunk  in  hollow  groan — 

Sound,  merry  huntsmen!  sound  the  pryse! 

Proudly  the  Chieftain  mark'd  his  clan. 
On  greenwood  lap  all  careless  throwrj, 

VOL.  II. — 6 


74  POETRY. 

Yet  raiss'd  his  eye  the  boldest  man 
That  bore  the  name  of  Hamilton. 

"  Why  fills  not  Bothwellhaugh  his  place. 
Still  wont  our  weal  and  woe  to  share  ? 

Why  comes  he  not  our  sport  to  grace  ? 
Why  shares  he  not  our  hunter's  fare  ?"— 

Stern  Claud  replied,  with  darkening  face, 
(Gray  Paisley's  haughty  lord  was  he,) 

"  At  merry  feast,  or  buxom  chase. 
No  more  the  warrior  wilt  thou  see. 

"  Few  suns  have  set  since  Woodhouselee 
Saw  Bothwellhaugh's  bright  goblets  foam, 

When  to  his  hearth,  in  social  glee. 

The  war-worn  soldier  turn'd  liim  home. 

"  There,  wan  from  her  maternal  throes, 

His  Margaret,  beautiful  and  mild. 
Sate  in  her  bower,  a  pallid  rose, 

And  peaceful  nurs'd  her  new-born  child. 

"  O  change  accursed  !  past  are  those  days  ; 

False  Murray's  ruthless  spoilers  came, 
And,  for  the  hearth's  domestic  blaze, 

Ascends  destruction's  volumed  flame. 

"  What  sheeted  phantom  wanders  wild. 

Where  mountain  Eske  through  woodland  flows? 

Her  arms  enfold  a  shadowy  child — 
Oh  !  is  it  she,  the  pallid  rose  ? 


POETRV.  75 

"  The  wilder'd  traveler  sees  her  glide, 
And  hears  her  feeble  voice  with  awe— 

'  Revenge,'  she  cries,  '  on  Murray's  pride  ! 
And  woe  for  injured  Bothwellhaugh  !'  " 

He  ceased — and  cries  of  rage  and  grief 
Burst  mingling  from  the  kindred  band, 

And  half  arose  the  kindling  Chief 

And  half  unsheathed  his  Arran  brand. 

But  who,  o'er  bush,  o'er  stream  and  rock. 
Rides  headlong,  with  resistless  speed, 

Whose  bloody  poniard's  frantic  stroke 
Drives  to  the  leap  his  jaded  steed  ; 

Whose  cheek  is  pale,  whose  eyeballs  glare, 
As  one  some  vision'd  sight  that  saw. 

Whose  hands  are  bloody,  loose  his  hair? — 
'Tis  he!  'tis  he!  'tis  Bothwellhaugh! 

From  gory  selle,  and  reeling  steed. 
Sprung  the  fierce  horseman  with  a  bound, 

And,  reeking  from  the  recent  deed. 
He  dash'd  his  carbine  on  the  ground. 

Sternly  he  spoke — "'Tis  sweet  to  hear 
In  good  greenwood  the  bugle  blown, 

But  sweeter  to  Revenge's  ear 
To  drink  a  tyrant's  dying  groan. 

"  Your  slaughter'd  quarry  proudly  trode, 
At  dawning  morn,  o'er  dale  and  down. 


76  POETRY. 

But  prouder  base-born  Murray  rode 

Through  old  Linlithgow's  crowded  town. 

"  From  the  wild  Border's  humbled  side, 
In  haughty  triumph  marched  he, 

While  Knox  relax'd  his  bigot  pride, 
And  smiled,  the  traitorous  pomp  to  see. 

"  But  can  stern  Power,  with  all  his  vaunt. 
Or  Pomp,  with  all  her  courtly  glare, 

The  settled  heart  of  Vengeance  daunt, 
Or  change  the  purpose  of  Despair  ? 

"  With  hackbut  bent,  my  secret  stand. 
Dark  as  the  purposed  deed,  1  chose, 

And  mark'd,  where,  mingling  in  his  band, 
Troop'd  Scottish  pikes  and  English  bows. 

"  Dark  Morton,  girt  with  many  a  spear, 
Murder's  foul  minion,  led  the  van  ; 

And  clashed  their  broadswords  in  the  rear 
The  wild  Macfarlane's  plaided  clan. 

"  Glencairn  and  stout  Parkhead  were  nigh, 
Obsequious  at  their  Regent's  rein, 

And  haggard  Lindsay's  iron  eye. 
That  saw  fair  Mary  weep  in  vain. 

'"Mid  pennon'd  spears,  a  steely  grove. 
Proud  Murray's  plumage  floated  high  ; 

Scarce  could  his  trampling  charger  move, 
So  close  the  minions  crowded  nigh. 


POETRY.  '77 

"  From  the  raised  vizor's  shade,  his  eye, 
Dark-rolling,  glanced  the  ranks  along. 

And  his  steel  truncheon,  waved  on  high, 
Seem'd  marshaling  the  iron  throng. 

"  But  yet  his  sadden'd  brow  confess'd 

A  passing  shade  of  doubt  and  awe  ; 
Some  fiend  was  whispering  in  his  breast, 

'  Beware  of  injured  Bothwellhaugh  !' 

"  The  death-shot  parts — the  charger  springs — 

Wild  rises  tumult's  startling  roar! 
And  Murray's  plumy  helmet  rings — 

— Rings  on  the  ground,  to  rise  no  more. 

"  What  joy  the  raptured  youth  can  feel. 
To  hear  her  love  the  loved  one  tell — 
Or  he,  who  broaches  on  his  steel 
The  wolf  by  whom  his  infant  fell! 

"  But  dearer  to  my  injured  eye 

To  see  in  dust  proud  Murray  roll ; 

And  mine  was  ten  times  trebled  joy, 

To  hear  him  groan  his  felon  soul. 

"  My  Margaret's  spectre  glided  near — 
With  pride  her  bleeding  victim  saw — 
And  shriek'd  in  his  death-deafen'd  ear, 
'Remember  injured  Bothwellhaugh!' 

"  Then  speed  thee,  noble  Chatlerault! 
Spread  to  the  wind  thy  banner'd  tree  ! 


78  POETRY. 

Each  warrior  bend  his  Clydesdale  bow  ! — 
Murray  is  fall'n,  and  Scotland  free !" 

Vaults  every  warrior  to  his  steed ; 

Loud  bugles  join  their  wild  acclaim — 
"Murray  is  fall'n  and  Scotland  freed! 

Couch,  Arran  !  couch  thy  spear  of  flame!" 

But,  see!  the  minstrel  vision  fails — 

The  glimmering  spears  are  seen  no  more ; 

The  shouts  of  war  die  on  the  gales, 
Or  sink  in  Evan's  lonely  roar. 

For  the  loud  bugle,  pealing  high. 

The  blackbird  whistles  down  the  vale, 

And  sunk  in  ivied  ruins  lie 

The  banner'd  towers  of  Evandale 

For  Chiefs,  intent  on  bloody  deed. 

And  Vengeance  shouting  o'er  the  slain, 

Lo !  high-born  Beauty  rules  the  steed. 
Or  graceful  guides  the  silken  rein. 

And  long  may  Peace  and  Pleasure  own 
The  maids  who  list  the  minstrel's  tale ; 

Nor  e'er  a  ruder  guest  be  known 
On  the  fair  banks  of  Evandale ! 


POETRY. 


PIBROCH    OF    DONALD    DHU. 


79 


This  is  a  very  ancient  pibroch  belonging  to  Clan  MacDonald, 
and  supposed  to  refer  to  the  expedition  of  Donald  Balloch,  who, 
in  1431,  launched  from  the  Isles  with  a  considerable  force,  in- 
vaded Lochaber,  and  at  Inverlocliy  defeated  and  put  to  flight  the 
Earls  of  Mar  and  Caithness,  though  at  the  head  of  an  army  su- 
perior to  his  own. 

Pibroch  of  Donuil  Dhu, 

Pibroch  of  Donuil, 
Wake  thy  wild  voice  anew, 

Summon  Clan-Conuil. 
Come  away,  come  away, 

Hark  to  the  summons  ! 
Come  in  your  war  array, 

Gentles  and  commons. 

Come  from  deep  glen,  and 

From  mountain  so  rocky. 
The  war-pipe  and  pennon 

Are  at  Inverlochy. 
Come  every  hill-plaid,  and 

True  heart  that  wears  one. 
Come  every  steel  blade,  and 

Strong  hand  that  bears  one. 

Leave  untended  the  herd, 
The  flock  without  shelter ; 

Leave  the  corpse  uninterr'd, 
The  bride  at  the  altar ; 


80  POETRY. 

Leave  the  deer,  leave  the  steer, 
Leave  nets  and  barges  ; 

Come  with  your  fighting  gear. 
Broadswords  and  targes. 

Come  as  the  winds  come,  when 

Forests  are  rended ; 
Come  as  the  waves  come,  when 

Navies  are  stranded: 
Faster  come,  faster  come. 

Faster  and  faster. 
Chief,  vassal,  page  and  groom, 

Tenant  and  master. 

Fast  they  come,  fast  they  come ; 

See  how  they  gather  ! 
Wide  waves  the  eagle  plume. 

Blended  with  heather. 
Cast  your  plaids,  draw  your  blades. 

Forward  each  man  set ! 
Pibroch  of  Donuil  Dhu, 

Knell  for  the  onset ! 


TROPICAL    SUNSET. 

The  dawning  of  my  youth,  with  awe 
And  prophecy,  the  Dalesmen  saw  ; 
For  over  Redesdale  it  came. 
As  bodeful  as  their  beacon-flame 
Edmund,  thy  years  were  scarcely  mine. 
When,  challenging  the  Clans  of  Tyne 


POETRY.  81 

To  bring  their  best  my  brand  to  prove, 
O'er  Hexham's  altar  hung  my  glove  ; 
But  Tynedale,  nor  in  tower  nor  town, 
Held  champion  meet  to  take  it  down. 
My  noontide,  India  may  declare  ; 
Like  her  fierce  sun,  I  fired  the  air ! 
Like  him,  to  wood  and  cave  bade  fly 
Her  natives,  from  mine  angry  eye. 
Panama's  maids  shall  long  look  pale 
When  Risingham  inspires  the  tale  ; 
Chili's  dark  matrons  long  shall  tame 
The  froAvard  child  with  Bertram's  name. 
And  now,  my  race  of  terror  run. 
Mine  be  the  eve  of  tropic  sun  ! 
No  pale  gradations  quench  his  ray. 
No  twilight  dews  his  wrath  allay  ; 
AVith  disk  like  battle-target  red, 
He  rushes  to  his  burning  bed. 
Dyes  the  wide  wave  with  bloody  light, 
Then  sinks  at  once — and  all  is  night. 

MOONLIGHT    VIEW    OF    THE    CAMP    AND    BURYING-GROTTND 

AT    TOLEDO. 

Rearing  their  crests  amid  the  cloudless  skies. 

And  darly  clustering  in  the  pale  moonlight, 
Toledo's  holy  towers  and  spires  arise, 

As  from  a  trembling  lake  of  silver  white ; 
Their  mingled  shadows  intercept  the  sight 

Of  the  broad  burial-ground  outstretch'd  below. 
And  naught  disturbs  the  silence  of  the  night; 

All  sleeps  in  sullen  shade,  or  silver  glow, 
All  save  the  heavy  swell  of  Teio's  ceaseless  flow. 


82  POETRY. 

All  save  the  rushing  swell  of  Teio's  tide, 

Or,  distant  heard,  a  courser's  neigh  or  tramp  ; 
Their  changing  rounds  as  watchful  horsemen  ride, 

To  guard  the  limits  of  King  Roderick's  camp: 
For,  through  the  river's  night-fog  rolling  damp. 

Was  many  a  proud  pavilion  dimly  seen, 
Which  glimmer'd  back,  against  the  moon's  fair  lamp. 

Tissues  of  silk  and  silver  twisted  sheen. 
And  standards  proudly  pitch'd,  and  warders  arm'd  be- 
tween. 

But,  far  within,  Toledo's  Prelate  lent 

An  ear  of  fearful  wonder  to  the  King ; 
The  silver  lamp  a  fitful  lustre  sent. 

So  long  that  sad  confession  witnessing : 
For  Roderick  told  of  many  a  hidden  thing. 

Such  as  are  lothly  utter'd  to  the  air, 
When  Fear,  Remorse,  and  Shame,  the  bosom  wring, 

And  Guilt  his  secret  burden  cannot  bear. 
And  Conscience  seeks  in  speech  a  respite  from  Despair. 

Full  on  the  Prelate's  face,  and  silver  hair. 

The  stream  of  failing  light  was  feebly  roU'd: 
But  Roderick's  visage,  though  his  head  was  bare. 

Was  shadow'd  by  his  hand  and  mantle's  fold. 
While  of  his  hidden  soul  the  sins  he  told. 

Proud  Alaric's  descendant  could  not  brook. 
That  mortal  man  his  bearing  shoud  behold. 

Or  boast  that  he  had  seen,  when  Conscience  shook, 
Fear  tame  a  monarch's  brow,  Remorse  a  warrior's  look. 


POETRY.  83 

LANDING  OF    THE  BRITISH    ARMY  IN  PORTUGAL. 

Written  in  1811. 

Don  Roderick  tuni'd  him  as  the  shout  grew  loud — 

A  varied  scene  the  changeful  vision  show'd, 
For,  vi^here  the  ocean  mingled  with  the  cloud, 

A  gallant  navy  stemm'd  the  billows  broad. 
From  mast  and  stern  St.  George's  symbol  flow'd. 

Blent  with  the  silver  cross  to  Scotland  dear  ; 
Mottling  the  sea  their  landward  barges  row'd, 

And  flash'd  the  sun  on  bayonet,  brand,  and  spear. 
And  the  wild  beach  return'd  the  seamen's  jovial  cheer. 

It  was  a  dread,  yet  spirit-stirring  sight ! — 

The  billows  foam'd  beneath  a  thousand  oars  ; 
Fast  as  they  land,  the  red-cross  ranks  unite. 

Legions  on  legions  bright'ning  all  the  shores ; 
Then  banners  rise,  and  cannon-signal  roars, 

Then  peals  the  warlike  thunder  of  the  drum. 
Thrills  the  loud  fife,  the  trumpet-flourisli  pours. 

And  patriot  hopes  awake,  and  doubts  are  dumb, 
For,  bold  in  Freedom's  cause,  the  bands  of  ocean  come ! 

A  various  host  they  came — whose  ranks  display 
Each  mode  in  which  the  warrior  meets  the  fight : 

The  deep  battalion  locks  its  firm  array. 

And  meditates  his  aim  the  marksman  light ; 

Far  glance  the  light  of  sabres  flashing  bright, 


84  POETRY. 

Where    mounted   squadrons    shake    the  echoing 
mead ; 
Lacks  not  artillery  breathing  flame  and  night, 
Nor  the  fleet  ordnance  whirl'd  by  rapid  steed, 
That  rivals  lightning's  flash  in  ruin  and  in  speed. 

A  various  host — from  kindred  realms  they  came, 

Brethren  in  arms,  but  rivals  in  renown — 
For  yon  fair  bands  shall  merry  England  claim. 

And  with  their  deeds  of  valor  deck  her  crown. 
Hers  their  bold  port,  and  hers  their  martial  frown, 

And  hers  their  scorn  of  death  in  freedom's  cause, 
Their  eyes  of  azure,  and  their  locks  of  brown, 

And  the  blunt  speech  that  bursts  without  a  pause, 
And  freeborn  thoughts,  which  league  the  Soldier  with 
the  Laws. 

And,  O !  loved  warriors  of  the  Minstrel's  land ! 

Yonder  your  bonnets  nod,  your  tartans  wave  ! 
The  rugged  form  may  mark  the  mountain  band, 

And  harsher  features,  and  a  mien  more  grave  ; 
But  ne'er  in  battle-field  throbb'd  heart  so  brave 

As  that  which  beats  beneath  the  Scottish  plaid ; 
And  when  the  pibroch  bids  the  battle  rave. 

And  level  for  the  charge  your  arms  are  laid, 
Where  lives  the  desperate  foe  that  for  such  onset  staid ! 

Hark !  from  yon  stately  ranks  what  laughter  rings. 
Mingling  wild  mirth,  with  war's  stern  minstrelsy, 

His  jest  while  each  blithe  comrade  round  him  flings, 
And  moves  to  death  with  military  glee ! 

Boast,  Erin,  boast  them !  tameless,  frank,  and  free, 


POETRY.  85 


In  kindness  warm,  and  fierce  in  danger  known, 
Rough  nature's  children,  humorous  as  she; 

And  He,  yon  Chieftain — strike  the  proudest  tone 
Of  thy  bokl  harp,  green  Isle  ! — the  Hero  is  thine  own  ! 


CHRISTMAS. 


Heap  on  more  wood  ! — the  wind  is  chill ; 

But  let  it  whistle  as  it  will. 

We'll  keep  our  Christmas  merry  still. 

Each  age  has  deem'd  the  new-born  year 

The  fittest  time  for  festal  cheer  : 

Even,  heathen  yet,  the  savage  Dane 

At  lol  more  deep  the  mead  did  drain ; 

High  on  the  beach  his  galleys  drew, 

And  feasted  all  his  pirate  crew ; 

Then  in  his  low  and  pine-built  hall. 

Where  shields  and  axes  deck'd  the  wall. 

They  gorged  upon  the  half-dress'd  steer ; 

Caroused  in  seas  of  sable  beer; 

While  round,  in  brutal  jest,  were  thrown 

The  half-gnaw'd  rib,  and  marrow-bone  : 

Or  listen'd  all,  in  grim  delight, 

AVhile  Scalds  yell'd  out  the  joys  of  fight, 

Then  forth,  in  frenzy,  would  they  hie. 

While  wildly-loose  their  red  locks  fly, 

And  dancing  round  the  blazing  pile, 

They  make  such  barbarous  mirth  the  while, 

As  best  might  to  the  mind  recall 

The  boisterous  joys  of  Odin's  hall. 

And  well  our  Christian  sires  of  old 

Loved  when  the  year  its  course  had  roll'd. 


86  POETRY. 

And  brought  blithe  Christmas  back  again, 
With  all  its  hospitable  train. 
Domestic  and  religions  rite 
Gave  honor  to  the  holy  night ; 
On  Christmas  eve  the  bells  were  rung; 
On  Christmas  eve  the  mass  was  sung : 
That  only  night  in  all  the  year, 
Saw  the  stoled  priest  the  chalice  rear. 
The  damsel  donn'd  her  kirtle  sheen ; 
The  hall  was  dress'd  with  holly  green  ; 
Forth  to  the  wood  did  merry-men  go, 
To  gather  in  the  misletoe. 
Then  open'd  wide  the  Baron's  hall 
To  vassal,  tenant,  serf,  and  all; 
Power  laid  his  rod  of  rule  aside. 
And  Ceremony  doff 'd  his  pride. 
The  heir,  with  roses  in  his  shoes. 
That  night  might  village  partner  choose; 
.    The  Lord,  underogating,  share 
The  vulgar  game  of  "  post  and  pair." 
All  hail'd,  with  uncontroU'd  delight 
And  general  voice,  the  happy  night. 
That  to  the  cottage,  as  the  crown, 
Brought  tidings  of  salvation  down. 

The  fire,  with  well-dried  logs  supplied, 
Went  roaring  up  the  chimney  wide  ; 
The  huge  hall-table's  oaken  face, 
Scrubb'd  till  it  shone,  the  day  to  grace, 
Bore  then  upon  its  massive  board 
No  mark  to  part  the  squire  and  lord. 


POETRY.  S"? 

Then  was  brought  in  the  lusty  brawn, 

By  old  blue-coated  serving-man  ; 

Then  the  grim  boar's  head  frown'd  on  high, 

Crested  with  bays  and  rosemary. 

Well  can  the  green-garb'd  ranger  tell, 

How,  when,  and  where,  the  monster  fell ; 

What  dogs  before  his  death  he  tore. 

And  all  the  baiting  of  the  boar. 

The  wassel  round,  in  good  brown  bowls, 

Garnish'd  with  ribbons,  blithely  trowls, 

There  the  huge  sirloin  reek'd  ;  hard  by 

Plum-pon-idge  stood,  and  Christmas  pie  ; 

Nor  fail'd  old  Scotland  to  produce. 

At  such  high  tide,  her  savoury  goose. 

Then  came  the  merry  maskers  in, 

And  carols  roar'd  with  blithesome  din  ; 

If  unmelodious  was  the  song. 

It  was  a  hearty  note,  and  strong. 

Who  lists  may  in  their  mumming  see 

Traces  of  ancient  mystery ; 

White  shirts  supplied  the  masquerade, 

And  smutted  cheeks  the  visors  made  ; 

But  O  !  what  maskers,  richly  dight. 

Can  boast  of  bosoms  half  so  lisht? 

England  was  merry  England,  when 

Old  Christmas  brought  his  sports  again. 

'Tvvas  Christmas  broach'd  the  mightiest  ale; 

'Twas  Christmas  told  the  merriest  tale ; 

A  Christmas  gambol  oft  could  cheer 

The  poor  man's  heart  through  half  the  year. 


88  POETRY. 


BATTLE  OF  FLODDEN,  AND  DEATH  OF  MARMION.* 

From  Flodden  ridge 

The  Scots  beheld  the  English  host 

Leave  Barmore-wood,  their  evening  post, 

And  heedful  watch'd  them  as  they  cross'd 
The  Till  by  Twisel  Bridge. 

High  sight  it  is,  and  haughty,  while 

They  drive  into  the  deep  defile  ; 

Beneath  the  cavern'd  cliff  they  fall, 

Beneath  the  castle's  airy  wall. 
By  rock,  by  oak,  by  hawthorn-tree, 

Troop  after  troop  are  disappearing ; 

Troop  after  troop  their  banners  rearing. 
Upon  the  eastern  bank  you  see. 
Still  pouring  down  the  rocky  den. 

Where  flows  the  sullen  Till, 
And  rising  from  the  dim-wood  glen. 
Standards  on  standards,  men  on  men, 

In  slow  succession  still, 

*  "This  great  and  decisive  victory  was  gained  by  tlie  Earl  of 
Surrey  on  the  9th  September,  1513.  The  victors  had  about  five 
thousand  men  slain,  the  Scots  twice  that  number  at  least.  But 
the  loss  lay  not  so  much  in  the  number  of  the  slain,  as  in  their 
rank  and  quality.  The  English  lost  very  few  men  of  distinction. 
The  Scotch  left  on  the  field  the  King,  two  bishops,  two  mitred 
abbots,  twelve  earls,  thirteen  lords,  and  five  eldest  sons  of  peers. 
The  number  of  gentlemen  slain  was  beyond  calculation ;  there 
is  scarcely  a  family  of  name  in  Scottish  history  who  did  not  lose  a 
relative  there." — Talcs  of  a  Grandfather. 


POETUY.  89 

And,  sweeping  o'er  the  Gothic  arch, 
And  pressing  on,  in  ceaseless  march, 
To  gain  the  opposing  hill. 
That  morn,  to  many  a  trumpet  clang, 
Twisel !  thy  rock's  deep  echo  rang  ; 
And  many  a  chief  of  birth  and  rank, 
Saint  Helen  !  at  thy  fountain  drank. 
Thy  hawthorn  glade,  which  now  we  see 
In  spring-tide  bloom  so  lavishly. 
Had  then  from  many  an  axe  its  doom. 
To  give  the  marching  columns  room. 

And  why  stands  Scotland  idly  now, 
Dark  Flodden  !  on  thy  airy  brow, 
Since  England  gains  the  pass  the  while. 
And  struggles  through  the  deep  defile? 
What  checks  the  fiery  soul  of  James  ? 
Why  sits  that  champion  of  the  dames 

Inactive  on  his  steed, 
And  sees,  between  him  and  his  land, 
Between  him  and  Tweed's  southern  strand. 

His  host  Lord  Surrey  lead? 
What  'vails  the  vain  knight-errant's  brand? — 
O,  Douglas,  for  thy  leading  wand ! 

Fierce  Randolph,  for  thy  speed  I 
O  for  one  hour  of  Wallace  wight, 
Or  well-skill'd  Bruce,  to  rule  the  fight. 
And  cry — "  Saint  Andrew  and  our  right !" 
Another  sight  had  seen  that  morn. 
From  Fate's  dark  book  a  leaf  been  torn, 
And  Flodden  had  been  Bannockbourne  ! — 

VOL.  II. — -7 


90  POETRY. 

The  precious  hour  has  pass'd  in  vain, 
And  England's  host  has  gain'd  the  plain  ; 
Wheeling  their  march,  and  circling  still, 
Around  the  base  of  Flodden  hill.* 
From  the  sharp  ridges  of  the  hill, 
All  downward  to  the  banks  of  Till, 

Was  wreathed  in  sable  smoke. 
Volumed  and  fast,  and  rolling  far. 
The  cloud  enveloped  Scotland's  war, 

As  down  the  hill  they  broke  ; 
Nor  martial  shout,  nor  minstrel  tone. 
Announced  their  march ;  their  tread  alone. 
At  times  one  warning  trumpet  blown, 

*  On  the  evening  previous  to  the  memorable  battle  of  Flodden, 
Surrey's  head-quarters  were  at  Barmoor  Wood,  and  King  James 
held  an  inaccessible  position  on  the  ridge  of  Floddenhill,  one  of 
the  last  and  lowest  eminences  detached  from  the  ridge  of  Cheviot. 
The  Till,  a  deep  and  slow  river,  winded  between  the  armies.  On 
the  morning  of  the  9th  of  September,  1513,  Surrey  marched  in,  a 
north-westerly  direction,  and  crossed  the  Till,  with  his  van  and 
artillery,  at  Twisel-bridge,  nigh  where  that  river  joins  the  Tweed, 
his  rear-guard  column  passing  about  a  mile  higher,  by  a  ford. 
This  movement  had  the  double  efiect  of  placing  his  army  between 
King  James  and  bis  supplies  from  Scotland,  and  of  striking  the 
Scottish  monarch  with  surprise,  as  he  seems  to  liave  relied  on  the 
depth  of  the  river  in  his  front.  But  as  the  passage  both  over  the 
bridge  and  through  the  ford  was  difficult  and  slow,  it  seems  pos- 
sible that  the  English  might  have  been  attacked  to  great  advan- 
tage while  struggling  with  these  natural  obstacles.  I  know  not  if 
we  are  to  impute  James's  forbearance  to  want  of  military  skill,  or 
to  the  romantic  declaration  which  Pitscottie  puts  in  his  mouth, 
"  that  he  was  determined  to  have  his  enemies  before  him  on  a 
plain  field,"  and  therefore  would  suffer  no  interruption  to  be  given, 
even  by  artillery,  to  their  passing  the  river. 


POETRY,  91 

At  times  a  stifled  luim, 
Told  England,  from  his  mountain-throne 

King  James  did  rushing  come. — 
Scarce  could  thev  hear,  or  see  their  foes 

Until  at  weapon-point  they  close. — 
They  close,  in  clouds  of  smoke  and  dust, 
With  sword-sway,  and  with  lance's  thrust; 

And  such  a  yell  was  there, 
Of  sudden  and  portentous  birUi, 
As  if  men  fought  upon  the  earth, 
And  fiends  in  upper  air; 
Oh !  life  and  death  were  in  the  shout, 
Recoil  and  rally,  charge  and  rout, 

And  triumph  and  despair. 
Long  look'd  the  anxious  squires  ;  their  eye 
Could  in  the  darkness  nought  descry. 
With  that,  straight  up  the  hill  there  rode 

Two  horsemen  drench'd  with  gore. 
And  in  their  arms,  a  helpless  load, 

A  wounded  knight  they  bore. 
His  hand  still  strain'd  the  broken  brand  ; 
His  arms  were  smear'd  with  blood  and  sand  ; 
Dragg'd  from  among  the  horses'  feet. 
With  dinted  shield,  and  helmet  beat. 
The  falcon-crest  and  plumage  gone, 
Can  that  be  haughty  Marmion  ?  .   .   .   . 
When,  dofl''d  his  casque,  he  felt  free  air, 
Around  'gan  Marmion  wildly  stare  : — 
"  Where's  Harry  Blount  ?  Fitz-Eustace  where  ? 
Linger  ye  here,  ye  hearts  of  hare  ! 
Redeem  my  pennon, — charge  again  ! 
Cry — '  Marmion  to  the  rescue  !' — Vain  ! 


92  .     POETRY. 

Last  of  my  race,  on  battle-plain 
That  shout  shall  ne'er  be  heard  again  ! — 
Yet  my  last  thought  is  England's — fly, 
To  Dacre  bear  my  signet-ring  : 
Tell  him  his  squadrons  up  to  bring. — 
Fitz-Eustace,  to  Lord  Surrey  hie  ; 
Tiinstal  lies  dead  upon  the  field, 
His  life-blood  stains  the  spotless  shield : 
Edmund  is  down  : — my  life  is  reft ; 
The  Admiral  alone  is  left. 
Let  Stanley  charge  with  spur  of  fire, — 
With  Chester  charge  and  Lancashire, 
Full  upon  Scotland's  central  host, 
Or  victory  and  England's  lost. — 
Must  I  bid  twice  ? — hence,  varlets  !  fly  ! 
Leave  Marmion  here  alone — to  die." 
They  parted,  and  alone  he  lay  ; 
Clara  drew  her  from  the  sight  away. 
Till  pain  rung  forth  a  lowly  moan, 
And  half  he  murmur'd, — "  Is  there  none, 

Of  all  my  halls  have  nurst, 
Page,  squire,  or  groom,  one  cup  to  bring 
Of  blessed  water  from  the  spring, 

To  slake  my  djnng  thirst!" 
O,  woman  !  in  our  hours  of  ease. 
Uncertain,  coy,  and  hard  to  please. 
And  variable  as  the  shade 
By  the  light  quivering  aspen  made  ; 
When  pain  and  anguish  wring  the  brow, 
A  ministering  angel  thou  ! — 
Scarce  were  the  piteous  accents  said. 
When,  with  the  Baron's  casque,  the  maid 


POETRY.  93 

To  the  nigh  streamlet  ran  : 
Forgot  were  hatred,  wrongs,  and  fears — 
The  plaintive  voice  alone  she  hears. 

Sees  but  the  dying  man. 
She  stoop'd  her  by  the  runnel's  side, 

But  in  abhorrence  backward  drew  ; 
For,  oozing  from  the  mountain's  side. 
Where  raged  the  war,  a  dark-red  tide 

Was  curdling  in  the  streamlet  blue. 
Where  shall  she  turn  ? — behold  her  mark 

A  little  fountain  cell. 
Where  water,  clear  as  diamond-spark. 

In  a  stone  basin  fell. 
Above,  some  half-worn  letters  say, 
IDriuk  .  xocax^  .  pilgrim  .  brink  .  anh  .  pra«  . 
iror  .  il]c .  kinb  .  soul .  of .  Stibil .  (Brag  . 

i3JI)o  .  bnilt .  tl)is .  cross  .  aixb  ,  xocll . 
She  fiU'd  the  helm,  and  back  she  hied, 
And  with  surprise  and  joy  espied 

A  Monk  supporting  Marmion's  head — 
A  pious  man,  whom  duty  brought 
To  dubious  verge  of  battle  fought, 

To  shrieve  the  dying,  bless  the  dead. 
With  fruitless  labor,  Clara  bound, 
And  strove  to  stanch  the  gushing  wound ; 
The  Monk,  with  unavailing  cares, 
Exhausted  all  the  Church's  prayers. 
Ever,  he  said,  that,  close  and  near, 
A  lady's  voice  was  in  his  ear, 
And  that  the  priest  he  could  not  hear ; 

For  that  she  ever  sung. 


94  POETRY. 

"/n  the  lost  battle,  home  down  by  the  flying, 
WJiere  mingles  war^s  rattle  with  groans  of  the 
dying  y' 

So  the  notes  rung ; — 
"  Avoid  thee,  Fiend  ! — with  cruel  hand, 
Shake  not  the  dying  sinner's  sand  ! — 
O  look,  my  son,  upon  yon  sign 
Of  the  Redeemer's  grace  divine ; 

O  think  on  faith  and  bliss  ! — 
By  many  a  death-bed  I  have  been. 
And  many  a  sinner's  parting  seen, 

But  never  aught  like  this." 
The  war,  that  for  a  space  did  fail, 
Now  trebly  thundering  swell'd  the  gale. 

And — Stanley  !  was  the  cry  ; — 
A  light  on  Marmion's  visage  spread, 

And  fired  his  glazing  eye  : 
"With  dying  hand,  above  his  head. 
He  shook  the  fragment  of  his  blade, 

And  shouted  "  Victory  ! — 
Charge,  Chester,  charge  !  On,  Stanley,  on!" 
Were  the  last  words  of  Marmion. 


95 


SELECT  MOTTOES  AND  IMAGES. 

Life  hath  its  May,  and  is  mirthful  then ; 

The  woods  are  vocal,  and  the  flowers  all  odor ; 

Its  very  blast  has  mirth  in  't, — and  the  maidens. 

The  while  they  don  their  cloaks,  to  screen  their  kirtles. 

Laugh  at  the  rain  that  wets  them. 

Mbot. 

In  the  wild  storm. 

The  seamen  hews  his  mast  down,  and  the  merchant 
Heaves  to  the  billows  wares  he  once  deem'd  precious ; 
So  prince  and  peer,  'mid  popular  contentions, 
Cast  off  their  favorites, 

IbiiL 

In  some  breasts  passion  lies  conceal'd  and  silent, 
Like  war's  swart  powder  in  a  castle  vault, 
Until  occasion,  like  the  linstock,  lights  it : 
Then  comes  at  once  the  lightning  and  the  thunder, 
And  distant  echoes  tell  that  all  is  rent  asunder. 

Ibid. 

Death  distant? — No,  alas  !   he's  ever  with  us, 
And  shakes  the  dart  at  us  in  all  our  actings . 
He  lurks  within  our  cup,  while  we're  in  health: 
Sits  by  our  sick-bed,  mocks  our  medicines  ; 
We  cannot  walk,  or  sit,  or  ride,  or  travel. 
But  Death  is  by  to  seize  us  when  he  lists. 

Ibid. 


96  SELECT  MOTTOES  AND  IMAGES. 

Chance  will  not  do  the  work.    Chance  sends  the  breeze ; 

But  if  the  pilot  slumber  at  the  helm, 

The  very  wind  that  wafts  us  toward  the  port 

May  dash  us  on  the  shelves. — The  steersman's  part  is 

vigilance, 
Blow  it  or  rough  or  smooth. 

Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

High  o'er  the  eastern  steep  the  sun  is  beaming. 
And  darkness  flies  with  her  deceitful  shadows  ; — 
So  truth  prevails  o'er  falsehood. 

Ibid. 

I  strive  like  to  the  vessel  in  the  tide-way, 
Which,  lacking  favoring  breeze,  hath  not  the  power 
To  stem  the  powerful  current. — Even  so, 
Resolving  daily  to  forsake  my  vices. 
Habits,  strong  circumstance,  renevv'd  temptation. 
Sweep  me  to  sea  again. — O  heavenly  breath. 
Fill  thou  my  sails,  and  aid  the  feeble  vessel. 
Which  ne'er  can  reach  the  blessed  port  without  thee  ! 

Pirate. 

They  closed  beside  the  chimney's  blaze, 
And  talk'd,  and  hoped  for  happier  days. 
And  lent  their  spirits'  rising  glow 
A  while  to  gild  impending  woe ; — 
High  privilege  of  youthful  time. 
Worth  all  the  pleasures  of  our  prime  ! 
The  bickering  fagot  sparkled  bright, 
And  gave  the  scene  of  love  to  sight. 

Rokeby. 


SELECT  MOTTOES  AND  IMAGES.  97 

High  minds,  of  native  pride  and  force, 
Most  deeply  feel  thy  pangs.  Remorse  ! 
Fear,  for  their  scourge,  mean  villains  have, 
Thou  art  the  torturer  of  the  brave  ! 
Yet  fatal  strength  they  boast  to  steel 
Their  minds  to  bear  the  wounds  they  feel, 
Even  while  they  writhe  beneath  the  smart 
Of  civil  conflict  in  the  heart. 

Rokeby, 

Woe  to  the  youth  whom  Fancy  gains, 
Winning  from  Reason's  hand  the  reins. 
Pity  and  woe  !  for  such  a  mind 
Is  soft,  contemplative,  and  kind  ; 
And  woe  to  those  who  train  such  youth, 
And  spare  to  press  the  rights  of  truth, 
The  mind  to  strengthen  and  anneal. 
While  on  the  stithy  glows  the  steel ! 
O  teach  him,  while  your  lessons  last. 
To  judge  the  present  by  the  past ; 
Remind  him  of  each  wish  pursued. 
How  rich  it  glow'd  with  promised  good  ; 
Remind  him  of  each  wish  enjoy'd, 
How  soon  his  hopes  possession  cloy'd  ! 
Tell  him,  we  play  unequal  game. 
Whene'er  we  shoot  by  Fancy's  aim  ; 
And,  ere  he  strip  him  for  her  race, 
Show  the  conditions  of  the  chase  : 
Two  sisters  by  the  goal  are  set. 
Cold  Disappointment  and  Regret ; 
One  disenchants  the  winner's  eyes, 
And  strips  of  all  its  worth  the  prize  ; 


98  SELECT  MOTTOES  AND  IMAGES. 

While  one  augments  its  gaudy  show, 
More  to  enhance  the  loser's  woe. 
The  victor  sees  his  fairy  gold, 
Transform'd,  when  won,  to  drossy  mould  ; 
But  still  the  vanquish'd  mourns  his  loss, 
And  rues,  as  gold,  that  glittering  dross. 

Rokeby. 


SCOTTISH  SCENES  AND 


CHAR  AC  TEES. 


SCOTTISH    SCENES 


AND 


CHARACTERS. 


ROB   ROY. 

Rob  Roy  MacGregor  Campbell,  which  last  name 
he  bore  in  consequence  of  the  Acts  of  Parliament 
abolishing  his  own,  was  the  younger  son  of  Donald 
MacGregor  of  Glengyle,  said  to  have  been  a  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  (probably  in  the  service  of  James  II).,  by  his 
Avife,  a  daughter  of  Campbell  of  Glenfalloch.  Rob's 
own  designation  was  of  Inversnaid ;  but  he  appears  to 
have  acquired  a  right  of  some  kind  or  other  to  the  pro- 
perty or  possession  of  Craig-Royston,  a  domain  of  rock 
and  forest  lying  on  the  east  side  of  Loch  Lomond, 
where  that  beautiful  lake  stretches  into  the  dusky 
mountains  of  Glenfalloch. 

The  time  of  his  birth  is  uncertain.  But  he  is  said 
to  have  been  active  in  the  scenes  of  war  and  plunder 
which  succeeded  the  Revolution  ;  and  tradition  afFirms 
him  to  have  been  the  leader  in  a  predatory  incursion 
into  the  parish  of  Kippen,  in  the  Lennox,  which  took 
place  in  the  year  1691.  It  was  of  almost  a  bloodless 
character,  only  one  person  losing  his  life;  but  from  the 


102  ROB  ROY. 

w 

extent  of  the  depredation,  it  was  long  distinguished  by 
the  name  of  the  Her'-ship,  or  devastation,  of  Kippen. 
The  time  of  his  death  is  also  uncertain,  but  as  he  is 
said  to  have  survived  the  year  1733,  and  died  an  aged 
man,  it  is  probable  he  may  have  been  tvs^enty-five  about 
the  time  of  the  Her'-ship  of  Kippen,  which  would  as- 
sign his  birth  to  the  middle  of  the  17th  century. 

In  the  more  quiet  times  which  succeeded  the  Revo- 
lution, Rob  Roy,  or  Red  Robert,  seems  to  have  exerted 
his  active  talents,  which  were  of  no  mean  order,  as  a 
drover,  or  trader  in  cattle,  to  a  great  extent.  It  may 
well  be  supposed  that  in  those  days  no  Lowland,  much 
less  English  drovers,  ventured  to  enter  the  Highlands. 
The  cattle,  which  were  the  staple  commodity  of  the 
mountains,  were  escorted  down  to  fairs,  on  the  borders 
of  the  Lowlands,  by  a  party  of  Highlanders,  with  their 
arms  rattling  around  them ;  and  who  dealt,  however,  in 
all  honor  and  good  faith  with  their  Southern  customers. 
A  fray,  indeed,  would  sometimes  arise,  when  the  Low- 
landmen,  chiefly  Borderers,  who  had  to  supply  the 
English  market,  used  to  dip  their  bonnets  in  the  next 
brook,  and  wrapping  them  round  their  hands,  oppose 
their  cudgels  to  the  naked  broadswords,  which  had  not 
always  the  superiority. 

His  importance  was  increased  by  the  death  of  his 
father,  in  consequence  of  which  he  succeeded  to  the 
management  of  his  nephew  Gregor  MacGregor,  of 
Glengyle's  property,  and,  as  his  tutor,  to  such  influence 
with  the  clan  and  following  as  was  due  to  the  repre- 
sentative of  Dougal  Ciar.  Such  influence  was  the 
more  uncontrolled,  that  this  family  of  the  MacGregors 
seem  to  have  refused  adherence  to  MacGregor  of  Glen- 


.    ROP,  ROV.  103 

caniock,  the  ancestor  of  the  present  Sir  Ewan  Mac- 
Gregor,  and  asserted  a  kind  of  independence. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Rob  Roy  acquired  an  interest 
by  purchase,  wadset,  or  otherwise,  to  the  property  of 
Craig-Royston,  already  mentioned.  He  was  in  parti- 
cular favor,  during  this  prosperous  period  of  his  life, 
with  his  nearest  and  most  powerful  neighbor,  James, 
first  Duke  of  Montrose,  from  whom  he  received  many 
marks  of  regard.  His  Grace  consented  to  give  his 
nephew  and  himself  a  right  of  property  on  the  estates 
of  Glengyle  and  Inversnaid,  which  they  had  till  then 
only  held  as  kindly  tenants.  The  Duke,  also,  with  a 
view  to  the  interest  of  the  country  and  his  own  estate, 
supported  our  adventurer  by  loans  of  money  to  a  con- 
siderable amount,  to  enable  him  to  carry  on  his  specu- 
lations in  the  cattle  trade. 

Unfortunately,  that  species  of  commerce  was  and  is 
liable  to  sudden  fluctuations  ;  and  Rob  Roy  was — by  a 
sudden  depression  of  markets,  and,  as  a  friendly  tradi- 
tion adds,  by  the  bad  faith  of  a  partner  named  Mac- 
Donald,  whom  he  had  imprudently  received  into  his 
confidence,  and  intrusted  with  a  considerable  sum  of 
money — rendered  totally  insolvent.  He  absconded,  of 
course — not  empty-handed,  if  it  be  true,  as  stated  in  an 
advertisement  for  his  apprehension,  that  he  had  in  his 
possession  sums  to  the  amount  of  £1000  sterling,  ob- 
tained from  several  noblemen  and  gentlemen  under  pre- 
tence of  purchasing  cows  for  them  in  the  Highlands. 
This  advertisement  appeared  in  June  1714,  and  was 
several  times  repeated.  It  fixes  the  period  when  Rob 
Roy  exchanged  his  commercial  adventures  for  specu- 
lations of  a  very  different  complexion. 


104  ROB  ROY. 

He  appears  at  this  period  first  to  have  removed,  from 
his  ordinary  dwelling  at  Inversnaid,  ten  or  twelve  Scots 
miles  (which  is  double  the  number  of  English)  farther 
into  the  Highlands,  and  commenced  the  lawless  sort  of 
life  which  he  afterwards  followed.  The  Duke  of  Mont- 
rose, who  conceived  himself  deceived  and  cheated  by 
MacGregor's  conduct,  employed  legal  means  to  recover 
the  money  lent  to  him.  Rob  Roy's  landed  property 
was  attached  by  the  regular  form  of  legal  procedure, 
and  his  stock  and  furniture  made  the  subject  of  arrest 
and  sale. 

It  is  said  that  this  diligence  of  the  law,  as  it  is  called 
in  Scotland,  which  the  English  more  blundy  term  dis- 
tress, was  used  in  this  case  with  uncommon  severity, 
and  that  the  legal  satellites,  not  usually  the  gentlest  per- 
sons in  the  world,  had  insulted  MacGregor's  wife,  in  a 
manner  which  would  have  aroused  a  milder  man  than 
he  to  thoughts  of  unbounded  vengeance.  She  was  a 
woman  of  fierce  and  haughty  temper,  and  is  not  un- 
likely to  have  disturbed  the  oflicers  in  the  execution  of 
their  duty,  and  thus  to  have  incurred  ill-treatment,  though, 
for  the  sake  of  humanity,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  story 
sometimes  told,  is  a  popular  exaggeration.  It  is  cer- 
tain that  she  felt  extreme  anguish  at  being  expelled  from 
the  banks  of  Loch  Lomond  and  gave  vent  to  her  feel- 
ings in  a  fine  piece  of  pipe-music,  still  well  known  to 
amateurs  by  the  name  of"  Rob  Roy's  Lament," 

The  fugitive  is  thought  to  have  found  his  first  place 
of  refuge  in  Glen  Dochart,  under  the  Earl  of  Breadal- 
bane's  protection  ;  for  though  that  family  had  been  active 
agents  in  the  destruction  of  the  MacGregors  in  former 
times,  they  had  of  late  years  sheltered  a  great  many 


ROB  ROY.  105 

of  the  name  in  their  old  possessions.  The  Duke  of 
Argyle  was  also  one  of  Rob  Roy's  protectors,  so  far  as 
to  aftord  him,  according  to  the  Highland  phrase,  wood 
and  water — the  shelter,  namely,  that  is  afforded  by  the 
forests  and  lakes  of  an  inaccessible  country. 

The  great  men  of  the  Highlands  in  that  time,  besides 
being  anxiously  ambitious  to  keep  up  what  was  called 
their  Following,  or  military  retainers,  were  also  de- 
sirous to  have  at  their  disposal  men  of  resolute  charac- 
ter, to  whom  the  world  and  the  world's  law  were  no 
friends,  and  who  might  at  times  ravage  the  lands  or  de- 
stroy the  tenants  of  a  feudal  enemy,  without  bringing 
responsibility  on  their  patrons.  The  strife  between  the 
names  of  Campbell  and  Graham,  during  the  civil  wars 
of  the  17th  century,  had  been  stamped  with  mutualloss 
and  inveterate  enmity.  Tiie  death  of  the  great  Mar- 
quis of  Montrose  on  the  one  side,  the  defeat  at  Inver- 
lochy,  and  cruel  plundering  of  Lorn,  on  the  other,  were 
reciprocal  injuries  not  likely  to  be  forgotten.  Rob 
Roy  was,  therefore,  sure  of  refuge  in  the  country  of 
the  Campbells,  both  as  having  assumed  their  name,  as 
connected  by  his  mother  with  the  family  of  Glenfalloch, 
and  as  an  enemy  to  the  rival  house  of  Montrose.  The 
extent  of  Argyle's  possessions,  and  the  power  of  re- 
treating thither  in  any  emergency,  gave  great  encou- 
ragement to  the  bold  schemes  of  revenge  which  he  had 
adopted. 

This  was  nothing  short  of  the  maintenance  of  a  pre- 
datory war  against  tlie  Duke  of  Montrose,  whom  he 
considered  as  the  author  of  his  exclusion  from  civil  so- 
ciety, and  of  the  outlawry  to  which  lie  had  been  sen- 
tenced by  letters  of  horning  and  caption  (legal  writs  so 

VOL.  II. — 8 


106  ROB  ROY. 

called),  as  well  as  the  seizure  of  his  goods,  and  adjudi- 
cation of  his  landed  property.  Against  his  Grace, 
therefore,  his  tenants,  friends,  allies,  and  relatives,  he 
disposed  himself  to  employ  every  means  of  annoyance 
in  his  power. 

The  opinions  and  habits  of  the  nearest  neighbors  to 
the  Highland  line  were  also  highly  favorable  to  Rob 
Roy's  purpose.  A  large  proportion  of  them  were  of 
his  own  clan  of  MacGregor,  who  claimed  the  property 
of  Balquhidder,  and  other  Highland  districts,  as  having 
been  part  of  the  ancient  possessions  of  their  tribe ; 
though  the  harsh  laws,  under  the  severity  of  which 
they  had  suffered  so  deeply,  had  assigned  the  ownership 
to  other  families.  The  civil  wars  of  the  seventeenth 
century  had  accustomed  these  men  to  the  use  of  arms, 
and  they  were  peculiarly  brave  and  fierce  from  remem- 
brance of  their  sufTerings.  The  vicinity  of  a  compara- 
tively rich  Lowland  district  gave  also  great  temptations 
to  incursion.  Many  belonging  to  other  clans,  habitu- 
ated to  contempt  of  industry,  and  to  the  use  of  arms, 
drew  towards  an  unprotected  frontier  which  promised 
facility  of  plunder;  and  the  state  of  the  country,  now 
so  peaceable  and  quiet,  verified  at  that  time  the  opinion 
which  Dr.  Johnson  heard  with  doubt  and  suspicion, 
that  the  most  disorderly  and  lawless  districts  of  the 
Highlands  were  those  which  lay  nearest  to  the  Low- 
land line.  There  was,  therefore,  no  difficulty  in  Rob 
Roy,  descended  of  a  tribe  which  was  widely  dispersed 
in  the  country  we  have  described,  collecting  any  num- 
ber of  followers  whom  he  might  be  able  to  keep  in  ac- 
tion, and  to  maintain  by  his  proposed  operations. 

He  himself  appears  to  have  been  singularly  adapted 


noc  ROY.  107 

for  the  profession  which  he  proposed  to  exercise.  His 
stature  was  not  of  the  tallest,  but  his  person  was  un- 
commonly strong  and  compact.  The  greatest  peculi- 
arities of  his  frame  were  the  breadth  of  his  shoulders, 
and  the  great  and  almost  disproportioned  length  of  his 
arms;  so  remarkable,  indeed,  that  it  was  said  he  could, 
without  stooping,  tie  the  garters  of  his  Highland  hose, 
which  are  placed  two  inches  below  the  knee.  His 
countenance  was  open,  manly,  stern  at  periods  of  dan- 
ger, but  frank  and  cheerful  in  his  hours  of  festivity. 
His  hair  was  dark  red,  thick,  and  frizzled,  and  curled 
short  around  the  face.  His  fashion  of  dress  showed, 
of  course,  the  knees  and  upper  part  of  the  leg,  which 
was  described  lo  me  as  resembling  that  of  a  Highland 
bull,  hirsute  with  red  hair,  and  evincing  nniscular  strength 
similar  to  that  animal.  To  these  personal  qualifications 
must  be  added  a  masterly  use  of  the  Highland  sword, 
in  which  his  length  of  arm  gave  him  great  advantage — 
and  a  perfect  and  intimate  knowledge  of  all  tiie  recesses 
of  the  wild  country  in  which  he  harbored,  and  the  cha- 
racter of  the  various  individuals,  whether  friendly  or 
hostile,  with  whom  he  might  come  in  contact. 

His  mental  qualities  seemed  to  have  been  no  less 
adapted  to  the  circumstances  in  which  he  was  placed. 
Rob  Roy  avoided  every  appearance  of  cruelty,  and  it 
is  not  averred  that  he  was  ever  the  means  of  unneces- 
sary bloodshed,  or  the  actor  in  any  deed  which  could 
lead  the  way  to  it.  His  schemes  of  plunder  were  con- 
trived and  executed  with  equal  boldness  and  sagacity, 
and  were  almost  universally  successful,  from  the  skill 
with  which  they  were  laid,  and  the  secrecy  and  rapi- 
dity with  which   they  were    executed.     Like    Robin 


108  BAILIE  NICOL  JARVIE  AT  ABERFOIL 

Hood  of  England,  he  was  a  kind  and  gentle  robber, 
and,  while  he  took  from  the  rich,  was  liberal  in  relieving 
the  poor.  This  might  in  part  be  policy  ;  but  the  uni- 
versal tradition  of  the  country  speaks  it  to  have  arisen 
from  a  better  motive.  All  whom  I  have  conversed 
with,  and  I  have  in  my  youth  seen  some  who  knew 
Rob  Roy  personally,  gave  him  the  character  of  a  bene- 
volent and  humane  man  "  in  his  way."  His  ideas  of 
morality  were  tiiose  of  an  Arab  chief,  being  such  as 
naturally  arose  out  of  his  wild  education. 


BAILIE  NICOL  JAKVIE  AT  ABERFOIL  - 

FRAY    AT    THE    CHANGE-HOUSE. 

We  crossed  tlie  infant  Forth  by  an  old-fashioned 
stone-bridge,  very  higii  and  very  narrow.  My  conductor, 
however,  informed  me,  that  to  get  through  this  deep  and 
important  stream,  and  to  clear  all  its  tributary  depend- 
encies, the  general  pass  from  the  Highlands  to  the 
southward  lay  by  what  was  called  the  Fords  of  Frew, 
at  all  times  deep  and  difficult  of  passage,  and  often  al- 
together unfordable.  Beneath  these  fords  there  was  no 
pass  of  general  resort  until  so  far  east  as  the  bridge  of 
Stirling;  so  that  the  river  of  Forth  forms  a  defensible 
line  betwixt  the  Highlands  and  liowlands  of  Scotland, 
from  its  source  nearly  to  the  Frith,  or  inlet  of  the  ocean, 
in  which  it  terminates.     The  subsequent  events  which 


FRAY  AT  THE  CHANGE-HOUSE.  109 

we  witnessed  led  me  to  recall  with  attention  what  the 
shrewdness  of  Bailie  Jarvie  suggested  in  his  proverbial 
expression,  that  "  Forth  bridles  the  wild  Highlandman." 

About  half  a  mile's  riding,  after  we  crossed  the  bridge, 
placed  us  at  the  door  of  the  public-house  where  we 
were  to  pass  the  evening.  It  was  a  hovel  rather  worse 
than  better  than  that  in  which  we  had  dined  ;  but  its 
little  windows  were  lighted  up,  voices  were  heard  from 
within,  and  all  intimated  a  prospect  of  food  and  shelter, 
to  which  we  Avere  by  no  means  indifferent.  Andrew 
was  the  first  to  observe  that  there  was  a  peeled  willow- 
wand  placed  across  the  half-open  door  of  the  little  inn. 
He  hung  back,  and  advised  us  not  to  enter.  "  For,"  said 
Andrew,  "  some  of  their  chiefs  and  grit  men  are  birling 
at  the  usquebaugh  in  by  there,  and  dinna  want  to  be 
disturbed ;  and  the  least  we'll  get,  if  we  gang  ramstam 
in  on  them,  will  be  a  broken  head,  to  learn  us  better 
havings,  if  we  dinna  come  by  the  length  of  a  cauld  dirk 
in  our  wame,  whilk  is  just  as  likely." 

I  looked  at  the  Bailie,  who  acknowledged,  in  a  whis- 
per, "that  the  gowk  had  some  reason  for  singing,  ance 
in  the  year." 

Meantime  a  staring,  half-clad  wench  or  two  came  out 
of  the  inn  and  the  neighboring  cottages,  on  hearing  the 
sound  of  our  horses'  feet.  No  one  bade  us  welcome, 
nor  did  any  one  offer  to  take  our  horses,  from  which  we 
had  alighted ;  and  to  our  various  inquiries,  the  hopeless 
response  of  "  Ha  niel  Sassenach,  was  the  only  answer 
we  could  extract.  The  Bailie,  however,  found  (in  his 
experience)  a  way  to  make  them  speak  English.  "  If 
I  gie  ye  a  bawbee,"  said  he  to  an  urchin  of  about  ten 


110  BAILIE  NICOL  JAPa^IE   AT  ABERFOIL 

years  old,  with  a  fragment  of  a  tattered  plaid  about  him, 
"will  you  understand  Sassenach?" 

"Ay,  ay,  that  will  I,"  replied  the  brat  in  very  decent 
English. 

"  Then  gang  and  tell  your  mammy,  my  man,  there's 
twa  Sassenach  gendemen  come  to  speak  wi'  her." 

The  landlady  presently  appeared,  with  a  lighted  piece 
of  split  fir  blazing  in  her  hand.  The  turpentine  in  this 
species  of  torch  (which  is  generally  dug  from  out  the 
turf-bogs)  makes  it  blaze  and  sparkle  readily,  so  that  it 
is  often  used  in  the  Highlands  in  lieu  of  candles.  On 
this  occasion  such  a  torch  illuminated  the  wild  and  anx- 
ious features  of  a  female,  pale,  thin,  and  rather  above 
the  usual  size,  whose  soiled  and  ragged  dress,  though 
aided  by  a  plaid  or  tartan  screen,  barely  served  the  pur- 
poses of  decency,  and  certainly  not  those  of  comfort. 
She  plainly  refused  to  admit  us  into  the  house.  We 
remonstrated  anxiously,  and  pleaded  the  length  of  our 
journey,  the  state  of  our  horses,  and  the  certainty  that 
there  was  not  another  place  where  we  could  be  received 
nearer  than  Callander,  which  the  Bailie  stated  to  be 
seven  Scots  miles  distant.  The  obdurate  hostess  treated 
our  expostulation  with  contempt.  "  Better  gang  farther 
than  fare  waur,"  she  said,  speaking  the  Scottish  Low- 
land dialect,  and  being  indeed  a  native  of  the  Lennox 
district — "  Her  house  was  taen  up  wi'  them  wadna  like 
to  be  intruded  on  wi'  strangers.  She  didna  ken  wha 
niair  might  be  there — redcoats,  it  might  be,  frae  the  gar- 
rison." (These  last  words  she  spoke  under  her  breath, 
and  with  very  strong  emphasis.)  "  The  night,"  she 
said,  "  was  fair  abune  head — a  night  amang  the  heather 
wad  caller  our  bloods — we  might  sleep  in  our  claes,  as 


FRAY  AT  THE  CHANGE-HOUSE.  Ill 

mony  a  glide  blade  does  in  the  scabbard — there  wasna 
muckle  flow-moss  in  tlic  shaw,  if  we  took  up  onr  quar- 
ters right,  and  we  might  pit  up  our  horses  to  the  hill, 
naebody  wad  say  naething  against  it." 

"  But,  my  good  woman,"  said  I,  while  the  Bailie 
groaned  and  remained  undecided,  "  it  is  six  hours  since 
we  dined,  and  we  have  not  taken  a  morsel  since.  I 
am  positively  dying  with  hunger,  and  I  have  no  taste 
for  taking  up  my  abode  supperless  among  these  moun- 
tains of  yours.  I  positively  must  enter ;  and  make  the 
best  apology  you  can  to  your  guests  for  adding  a  stran- 
ger or  two  to  their  number.  Andrew,  you  will  see  the 
horses  put  up." 

The  Hecate  looked  at  me  with  surprise,  and  then 
ejaculated — "A  wilfu'  man  will  hae  his  way — them  that 
will  to  Cupar  maun  to  Cupar ! — To  see  thae  English 
belly-gods  !  he  has  had  ae  fii'  meal  the  day  already, 
and  he'll  venture  life  and  liberty,  rather  than  he'll  want 
a  het  supper !  Set  roasted  beef  and  pudding  on  the 
opposite  side  o'  the  pit  o'  Tophet,  and  an  Englishman 
will  mak  a  spang  at  it — but  I  wash  my  hands  o't — Fol- 
low me,  sir"  (to  Andrew),  "  and  I'se  show  ye  where  to 
pit  the  beasts." 

I  own  I  was  somewhat  dismayed  at  my  landlady's 
expressions,  which  seemed  to  be  ominous  of  some  ap- 
proaching danger.  I  did  not,  however,  choose  to  shrink 
back  after  having  declared  my  resolution.  I  opened  a 
crazy  half-decayed  door,  constructed  not  of  plank,  but  of 
wicker,  and,  followed  by  the  Bailie,  entered  into  the 
principal  apartment  of  this  Scottish  caravansary. 

The  interior  presented  a  view  which  seemed  singular 
enough  to  southern  eyes.     The  fire,  fed  with  blazing 


112  BAILIE  NICOL  JARVIE  AT  ABERFOIL 

turf  and  branches  of  dried  wood,  blazed  merrily  in  the 
centre  ;  but  the  smoke,  having  no  means  to  escape  but 
through  a  hole  in  the  roof,  eddied  round  the  rafters  of 
the  cottage,  and  hung  in  sable  folds  at  the  height  of  about 
five  feet  from  the  floor.  The  space  beneath  was  kept 
pretty  clear  by  innumerable  currents  of  air,  which  rush- 
ed toward  the  fire  from  the  broken  panel  of  basket-work 
which  served  as  a  door — from  two  square  holes,  designed 
as  ostensible  windows,  through  one  of  which  was  thrust 
a  plaid,  and  through  the  other  a  tattered  great-coat — and, 
moreover,  through  various  less  distinguishable  apertures 
in  the  walls  of  the  tenement,  which,  being  built  of  round 
stones  and  turf,  cemented  by  mud,  let  in  the  atmosphere 
at  innumerable  crevices. 

At  an  old  oaken  table,  adjoining  to  the  fire,  sat  three 
men,  guests  apparently,  whom  it  was  impossible  to  re- 
gard with  indifierence.  Two  were  in  the  Highland 
dress  ;  the  one,  a  little  dark-complexioned  man,  with  a 
lively,  quick,  and  irritable  expression  of  features,  wore 
the  trews,  or  close  pantaloons,  wove  out  of  a  sort  of 
checkered  stocking  stuff.  The  Bailie  whispered  me, 
that  "  he  behoved  to  be  a  man  of  some  consequence, 
for  that  naebody  but  their  Duinhewassels  wore  the 
trews — they  were  ill  to  weave  exactly  to  their  Highland 
pleasure." 

The  other  mountaineer  was  a  very  tall,  strong  man, 
with  a  quantity  of  reddish  hair,  freckled  face,  high 
cheek-bones,  and  long  chin — a  sort  of  caricature  of  the 
national  features  of  Scotland.  The  tartan  which  he 
wore  differed  from  that  of  his  companion,  as  it  had 
much  more  scarlet  in  it,  whereas  the  shades  of  black 
and  dark-green  predominated  in  the   checkers  of  the 


FRAY  AT  THE  CHANGE-HOUSE.  113 

Other.  The  third,  who  sate  at  the  same  table,  was  in 
the  Lowland  dress, — a  bold,  stout-looking  man,  with  a 
cast  of  military  daring  in  his  eye  and  manner,  his 
riding-dress  showily  and  profusely  laced,  and  his  cocked 
hat  of  formidable  dimensions.  His  hanger  and  a  pair  of 
pistols  lay  on  the  table  before  him.  Each  of  the  High- 
landers had  their  naked  dirks  stuck  upright  in  the  board 
beside  him, — an  emblem,  I  was  afterwards  informed, 
but  surely  a  strange  one,  that  their  compotation  was  not 
to  be  interrupted  by  any  brawl.  A  mighty  pewter 
measure,  containing  about  an  English  quart  of  usque- 
baugh, a  liquor  nearly  as  strong  as  brandy,  which  the 
Highlanders  distil  from  malt,  and  drink  undiluted  in  ex- 
cessive quantities,  was  placed  before  these  worthies.  A 
broken  glass,  with  a  wooden  foot,  served  as  a  drinking 
cup  to  the  whole  party,  and  circulated  with  a  rapidity, 
which,  considering  the  potency  of  the  liquor,  seemed 
absolutely  marvellous.  These  men  spoke  loud  and 
eagerly  together,  sometimes  in  Gaelic,  at  other  times  in 
English.  Another  Highlander,  wrapped  in  his  plaid, 
reclined  on  the  floor,  his  head  resting  on  a  stone,  from 
which  it  was  only  separated  by  a  wisp  of  straw,  and 
slept,  or  seemed  to  sleep,  without  attending  to  what 
was  going  on  around  him. 

Our  entrance  was  made  so  quietly,  and  the  carousers 
I  have  described  were  so  eagerly  engaged  in  their  dis- 
cussions, that  we  escaped  their  notice  for  a  minute  or 
two.  But  I  observed  the  Highlander  who  lay  beside 
the  fire  raise  himself  on  his  elbow,  as  we  entered,  and, 
drawing  his  plaid  over  the  lower  part  of  his  face,  fix 
his  look  on  us  for  a  few  seconds,  after  which  he  re- 
sumed his  recumbent  posture. 


114  BAILIE  NICOL  JARVIE  AT  ABERFOIL 

We  advanced  to  the  fire,  which  was  an  agreeable 
spectacle  after  onr  late  ride  during  the  chillness  of  an 
autumn  evening  among  the  mountains,  and  first  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  guests  who  had  preceded  us,  by 
calling  for  the  landlady.  She  approached,  looking 
doubtfully  and  timidly,  now  at  us,  now  at  the  other 
party,  and  returned  a  hesitating  and  doubtful  answer  to 
our  request  to  have  something  to  eat. 

"  She  didna  ken,"  she  said — "she  wasna  sure  there 
was  onything  in  the  house,"  and  then  modified  her  re- 
fusal with  the  qualification — "  that  is,  onything  fit  for 
the  like  of  us." 

I  assured  her  we  were  indiff"erent  to  the  quality  of 
our  supper;  and  looking  round  for  the  means  of  ac- 
commodation which  were  not  easily  to  be  found,  I  ar- 
ranged an  old  hen-coop  as  a  seat  for  Mr.  Jarvie,  and 
turned  down  a  broken  tub  to  serve  for  my  own.  An- 
drew Fairservice  entered  presently  afterwards,  and  took 
a  place  in  silence  behind  our  backs.  The  natives,  as  I 
may  call  them,  continued  staring  at  us  with  an  air  as  if 
confounded  by  our  assurance,  and  we,  at  least  I  myself, 
disguised  as  well  as  we  could,  under  an  appearance  of 
indifference,  any  secret  anxiety  we  might  feel  concern- 
ing the  mode  in  which  we  were  to  be  received  by  those 
whose  privacy  we  had  disturbed. 

At  length,  the  lesser  Highlander,  addressing  himself 
to  me,  said,  in  very  good  English,  and  in  a  tone  of  great 
haughtiness,  "  Ye  make  yourself  at  home,  sir,  I  see." 

"I  usually  do  so,"  I  replied,  "  when  I  come  into  a 
house  of  public  entertainment." 

"  And  did  she  na  see,"  said  the  taller  man,  "by  the 


FRAY  AT  THE  CHANGE-HOUSE.  115 

white  wand  at  the  door,  that  gentlemans  had  taken  up 
the  public-house  on  their  ain  business  ?" 

"I  do  not  pretend  to  understand  the  customs  of  this 
country  ;  but  I  am  yet  to  learn,"  I  replied,  "  how  three 
persons  should  be  entitled  to  exclude  all  other  travel- 
ers from  the  only  place  of  shelter  and  refreshment  for 
miles  round." 

"There's  nae  reason  for't,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Bai- 
lie ;  "we  mean  nae  offence — but  there's  neither  law 
nor  reason  for't;  but  as  far  as  a  stoup  o'  gude  brandy 
wad  make  up  the  quarrel,  we,  being  peaceable  folk, 
wad  be  willing." 

The  Lowlander,  adjusting  his  cocked-hat  fiercely 
upon  his  head,  said  : — "  We  desire  neither  your  brandy 
nor  your  company,"  and  up  he  rose  from  his  seat. 
His  companions  also  arose,  muttering  to  each  other, 
drawing  up  their  plaids,  and  snorting  and  snuffing  the 
air  after  the  manner  of  their  countrymen  Avhen  working 
themselves  into  a  passion. 

"I  tauld  ye  what  wad  come,  gentlemen,  said  the 
landlady,  "an  ye  wad  hae  been  tauld; — get  awa'  wi' 
ye  out  o'  my  house,  and  make  nae  disturbance  here — 
there's  nae  gentleman  be  disturbed  at  Jeanie  MacAl- 
pine's  an  she  can  hinder.  A  wheen  idle  English  loons, 
gaun  about  the  country  under  cloud  o'  night,  and  dis- 
turbing honest  peaceable  gentlemen  that  are  drinking 
their  drap  drink  at  the  fireside  !" 

There  was  obviously  a  fray  about  to  ensue,  at  which, 
feeling  myself  indignant  at  the  inhospitable  insolence 
with  which  I  was  treated,  I  was  totally  indifferent,  un- 
less on  the  Bailie's  account,  whose  person  and  qualities 
were  ill  qualitied  for  such  an  adventure.     I  started  up, 


116  BAILIE  NICOL  JARVIE  AT  ABERFOIL 

however,  on  seeing  the  others  rise,  and  dropped  my 
cloak  from  my  shoulders,  that  I  might  be  ready  to  stand 
on  the  defensive. 

"We  are  three  to  three,"  said  the  lesser  Highlander, 
glancing  his  eyes  at  our  party:  "if  ye  be  pretty  men, 
draw!"  and,  unsheathing  his  broadsword,  he  advanced 
on  me.  I  put  myself  in  a  posture  of  defence,  and, 
aware  of  the  superiority  of  my  weapon,  a  rapier  or 
small-sword,  was  little  afraid  of  the  issue  of  the  con- 
test. The  Bailie  behaved  with  unexpected  mettle. 
As  he  saw  the  gigantic  Highlander  confront  him  with 
his  weapon  drawn,  he  tugged  for  a  second  or  two  at 
the  hilt  of  his  shabble,  as  he  called  it;  but  finding  it 
loth  to  quit  the  sheath,  to  which  it  had  long  been  se- 
cured by  rust  and  disuse,  he  seized  as  a  substitute,  on 
the  red-hot  coulter  of  a  plough  which  had  been  em- 
ployed in  arranging  the  fire  by  way  of  a  poker,  and 
brandished  it  with  such  effect,  that  at  the  first  pass  he 
set  the  Highlander's  plaid  on  fire,  and  compelled  him 
to  keep  a  respectful  distance  till  he  could  get  it  ex- 
tinguished. Andrew,  on  the  contrary,  who  ought  to 
have  faced  the  Lowland  champion,  had,  I  grieve  to  say 
it,  vanished  at  the  very  commencement  of  the  fray. 
But  his  antagonist,  crying  "Fair  play!  fair  play!" 
seemed  courteously  disposed  to  take  no  share  in  the 
scuffle.  Thus  we  commenced  our  rencontre  on  fair 
terms  as  to  numbers.  My  own  aim  was,  to  possess 
myself,  if  possible,  of  my  antagonist's  weapon;  but  I 
was  deterred  from  closing,  for  fear  of  the  dirk  which 
he  held  in  his  left  hand,  and  used  in  parrying  the 
thrusts  of  my  rapier.  Meantime  the  Bailie,  notwith- 
standing the  success  of  his  first  onset,  was  sorely  bested. 


FRAY  AT  THE  CHANGE-HOUSE.  117 

The  weight  of  his  weapon,  the  corpulence  of  his  per- 
son, the  very  effervescence  of  his  own  passions,  were 
rapidly  exhausting  both  his  strength  and  his  breath,  and 
he  was  almost  at  the  mercy  of  his  antagonist,  when  up 
started  the  sleeping  Highlander  from  the  floor  on  which 
he   reclined,  with   his   naked   sword   and    target   in  his 
hand,  and  threw  himself  between  the  discomfited  ma- 
gistrate and  his  assailant,  exclaiming,  "  Her  nainsell  has 
eaten  the  town  pread  at  the  Cross  o'  Glasgo,  and  py 
her  troth  she'll  fight  for  Bailie  Sharvie  at  the  Clachan 
of  Aberfoil — tat  will  she  e'en  !"     And  seconding  his 
words  with  deeds,  this  unexpected  auxiliary  made  his 
sword  whistle  about  the  ears  of  his  tall  countryman, 
who,  nothing  abashed,  returned  his  blows  with  interest. 
But  being  both  accoutred  with  round  targets  made  of 
wood,  studded  with  brass,  and   covered  with  leather, 
with  which  they  readily  parried  each  other's  strokes, 
their  combat  was  attended  with  much  more  noise  and 
clatter  than   serious  risk  of  damage.     It  appeared,  in- 
deed, that  there  was   more  of  bravado  than  of  serious 
attempt  to  do  us  any  injury;  for  the  Lowland  gentle- 
man, who,  as  I  mentioned,  had  stood  aside  for  want  of 
an  antagonist  when  the  brawl  commenced,  was  now 
pleased  to  act  tlie  part  of  moderator  and  peace-maker. 
It  was  not,  of  course,  my  wish  to  protract  the  fray — 
my  adversary  seemed  equally  disposed  to  sheathe  his 
sword — the   Bailie,  gasping  for   breath,  might  be  con- 
sidered as  hors  de  combat,  and  our  two  sword-and-buck- 
ler  men  gave  up  their  contest  with  as  much  indifference 
as  they  had  entered  into  it. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  worthy  gentleman  who   acted 
as  umpire,  "let us  drink  and  gree  like  honest  fellows — 


118  BAILIE  NICOL  JARVIE  AT  ABERFOIL 

The  house  will  haud  us  a'.  I  propose  that  this  good 
litde  gentleman,  that  seems  sair  forfoughen,  as  I  may 
sae,  in  this  tolzie,  shall  send  for  a  tass  o'  brandy,  and 
I'll  pay  for  another,  by  way  of  archilowe,*  and  then 
we'll  birl  our  bawbees  a'  round  about,  like  brethren." 

"And  fa's  to  pay  my  new  ponnie  plaid,"  said  the 
larger  Highlander,  "  wi'  a  hole  burnt  in  't  ane  might 
put  a  kail-pat  through  ?  Saw  ever  ony  body  a  decent 
gendeman  fight  wi'  a  firebrand  before?" 

"  Let  that  be  nae  hinderance,"  said  the  Bailie,  who 
had  now  recovered  his  breath,  and  was  at  once  disposed 
to  enjoy  the  triumph  of  having  behaved  with  spirit,  and 
avoid  the  necessity  of  again  resorting  to  such  hard  and 
doubtful  arbitrement ; — "Gin  I  hae  broken  the  head," 
he  said,  "  1  sail  find  the  plaister.  A  new  plaid  sail  ye 
hae,  and  o'  the  best — your  ain  clan-colors,  man — an  ye 
will  tell  me  where  it  can  be  sent  t'  ye  frae  Glasco." 

"  I  needna  name  my  clan — I  am  of  a  king's  clan,  as 
is  weel  ken'd,"  said  the  Highlander  ;  "  but  ye  may  tak 
a  bit  o'  the  plaid — figh !  she  smells  like  a  singit  sheep's 
head  ! — and  that'll  learn  ye  the  sett — and  a  gendeman, 
that's  a  cousin  o'  my  ain,  that  carries  eggs  doun  frae 
Glencroe,  wdl  ca'  for't  about  Martimas,  an  ye  will 
tell  her  where  ye  bide.  But,  honest  gendeman,  neist 
time  ye  fight,  and  ye  hae  ony  respect  for  your  athver- 
sary,  let  it  be  wi'  your  sword,  man,  since  ye  wear  ane, 
arid  no  wi'  thae  het  cullers  and  fireprands,  like  a  wild 
Indian." 

"  Conscience  !"  replied  the  Bailie,  "  every  man  maun 
do  as  he  dow.     My  sword  hasna  seen  the  light  since 

*  Archilowe,  of  unknown  derivation,  signifies  a  peace-ofTering. 


I  RAY  AT  THE  CHANGE-HOUSE.  119 

Bothwell  Biigg,  when  my  father,  that's  dead  and  gane, 
ware  it ;  and  I  kenna  weel  if  it  was  forthcoming  then 
either,  for  the  battle  was  o'  the  briefest — At  ony  rate, 
it's  glewed  to  the  scabbard  now  beyond  my  power  to 
part  them  ;  and,  finding  tliat,  I  e'en  grippit  at  the  first 
thing  I  could  made  a  fend  wi'.  I  trow  my  fighting  days 
is  done,  though  I  like  ill  to  take  the  scorn,  for  a'  that. 
— But  where's  the  honest  lad  that  tuik  my  quarrel  on 
himsell  sae  frankly  ? — Fse  bestow  a  gill  o'  aquavitae  on 
him,  an  I  suld  never  ca'  for  anither." 

The  champion  for  whom  he  looked  around  was,  how- 
ever, no  longer  to  be  seen.  He  had  escaped  unobserved 
by  the  Bailie,  immediately  when  the  brawl  was  ended, 
yet  not  before  I  had  recognized,  in  his  wild  features  and 
shaggy  red  hair,  Dougal,  the  fugitive  turnkey  of  the 
Glasgow  jail.  I  communicated  this  observation  in  a 
whisper  to  the  Bailie,  who  answered  in  the  same  tone, 
"  Weel,  weel, — I  see  that  him  that  ye  ken  o'  said  very 
right ;  there  is  some  glimmering  o'  common  sense  about 
that  creature  Dougal ;  I  maun  see  and  think  o'  something 
will  do  him  some  gude." 

The  dame,  who  was  all  ofiiciousness  so  soon  as  the 
storm  had  blown  over,  immediately  undertook  to  broil 
something  comfortable  for  our  supper.  Indeed,  nothing 
surprised  me  more,  in  the  course  of  the  whole  matter, 
than  the  extreme  calmness  with  which  she  and  her 
household  seemed  to  regard  the  martial  tumult  tliat  had 
taken  place.  The  good  woman  was  only  heard  to  call 
to  some  of  her  assistants — "  Steek  the  door  !  steek  the 
door!  Kill  or  be  killed,'lel  naebody  pass  out  till  they 
hae  paid  the  lawin."  And  as  for  the  slumberers  in  those 
lairs  by  the  wall,  which  served  the  family  for  beds,  they 


120  INTERVIEW  WITH  HELEN  MACGREGOR. 

only  raised  their  shirtless  bodies  to  look  at  the  fray, 
ejaculated,  "  Oigh  !  oigh  !"  in  the  tone  suitable  to  their 
respective  sex  and  ages,  and  were,  I  believe,  fast  asleep 
again,  ere  our  swords  were  well  returned  to  their  scab- 
bards. 

Our  landlady,  however,  now  made  a  great  bustle  to 
get  some  victuals  ready,  and  to  my  surprise,  very  soon 
began  to  prepare  for  us,  in  the  frying-pan,  a  savory  raess 
of  venison  coUops,  which  she  dressed  in  a  manner  that 
might  well  satisfy  hungry  men,  if  not  epicures. 


INTERVIEW    WITH 

HELEN  MACGREGOR. 

At  length  we  were  placed  before  the  heroine  of  the 
day,  whose  appearance,  as  well  as  those  of  the  savage, 
uncouth,  yet  martial  figures  who  surrounded  us,  struck 
me,  to  own  the  truth,  with  considerable  apprehension, 
I  do  not  know  if  Helen  MacGregor  had  personally 
mingled  in  the  fray,  and  indeed  I  was  afterwards  given 
to  understand  the  contrary;  but  the  specks  of  blood  on 
her  brow,  her  hands  and  naked  arms,  as  well  as  on  the 
blade  of  the  sword  which  she  continued  to  hold  in  her 
hand — her  flushed  countenance,  and  the  disordered 
state  of  the  raven  locks  which  escaped  from  under  the 
red  bonnet  and  plume  that  formed  her  head-dress, 
seemed  all  to  intimate  that  she  had  taken  an  immediate 


INTERVIEW  WITH  HELEN  MACGREGOR.  121 

share  in  the  conflict.  Her  keen  black  eyes  and  features 
expressed  an  imagination  inflamed  by  the  pride  of  gra- 
tified revenge,  and  the  triumph  of  victory.  Yet  there 
was  nothing  positively  sanguinary,  or  cruel,  in  her  de- 
portment; and  she  reminded  me,  when  the  immediate 
alarm  of  the  interview  was  over,  of  some  of  the  paint- 
ings I  had  seen  of  the  inspired  heroines  in  the  Catholic 
churches  of  France. 

I  was  uncertain  in  what  terms  to  accost  a  personage 
so  uncommon,  when  Mr.  Jarvie,  breaking  the  ice  with  a 
preparatory  cough  (for  the  speed  with  which  he  had 
been  brought  into  her  presence  had  again  impeded  his 
respiration),  addressed  her  as  follows  : — "  Uh  !  uh  !  &c. 
&c.  I  am  very  happy  to  have  this  joyful  opportunity," 
(a  quaver  in  his  voice  strongly  belied  the  emphasis 
which  he  studiously  laid  on  the  word  joyful) — "this 
joyful  occasion,"  he  resumed,  trying  to  give  the  adjec- 
tive a  more  suitable  accentuation,  "  to  wish  my  kinsman 
Robin's  wife  a  very  good  morning. — Uh  !  uh! — How's 
a'  wi'  ye"  (by  this  time  he  had  talked  himself  into  his 
usual  jog-trot  manner,  which  exhibited  a  mixture  of 
familiarity  and  self-importance) — •"  How's  a'  wi'  ye 
this  lang  time  ?  Ye'U  hae  forgotten  me,  Mrs.  MacGre- 
gor  Campbell,  as  your  cousin — uh!  uh  ! — but  ye'll 
mind  my  father.  Deacon  Nicol  Jarvie,  in  the  Saut  Mar- 
ket o'  Glasgow  ? — an  honest  man  he  was,  and  a  spon- 
sible, and  respectit  you  and  yours.  Sae,  as  I  said  before, 
I  am  right  glad  to  see  you,  Mrs.  MacGregor  Campbell, 
as  my  kinsman's  wife.  I  wad  crave  the  liberty  of  a 
kinsman  to  salute  you,  but  that  your  gillies  keep  such 
a  dolefu'  fast  baud  o'  my  arms ;  and,  to  speak  Heaven's 

VOL.  II. — 9 


122  INTERVIEW  WITH  HELEN  MACGREGOR. 

truth  and  a  magistrate's,  ye  wadna  be  the  waur  of  a 
cogfu'  o'  water  before  ye  welcomed  your  friends." 

There  was  something  in  the  familiarity  of  this  intro- 
duction which  ill  suited  the  exalted  state  of  temper  of 
the  person  to  whom  it  was  addressed,  then  busied  with 
distributing  dooms  of  death,  and  warm  from  conquest 
in  a  perilous  encounter. 

"  What  fellow  are  you,"  she  said,  "  that  dare  to  claim 
kindred  with  the  MacGregor,  and  neither  wear  his  dress 
nor  speak  his  language  ? — What  are  you,  that  have  the 
tongue  and  the  habit  of  the  hound,  and  yet  seek  to  lie 
down  with  the  deer  ?  " 

"  I  dinna  ken,"  said  the  undaunted  Bailie,  "  if  the 
kindred  has  ever  been  weel  redd  out  to  you  yet,  cousin— 
but  it's  ken'd,  and  can  be  proved.  My  mother,  Elspeth 
MacFarlane,  was  the  wife  of  my  father,  Deacon  Nicol 
Jarvie — peace  be  wi'  them  baith  ! — and  Elspeth  was  the 
daughter  of  Parlane  MacFarlane,  at  the  Sheeling  o' 
Loch  Sloy.  Now  this  Parlane  MacFarlane,  as  his  sur- 
viving daughter  Maggy  MacFarlane,  alias  MacNab,  wha 
married  Duncan  MacNab  o'  Stuckavrallachan,  can  testi- 
fy, stood  as  near  to  your  gudeman,  Robin  MacGregor, 
as  in  the  fourth  degree  of  kindred,  for" 

The  virago  lopped  the  genealogical  tree,  by  demand- 
ing haughtily,  "  If  a  stream  of  rushing  water  acknow- 
ledged any  relation  with  the  portion  withdrawn  from  it 
for  the  mean  domestic  uses  of  those  who  dwelt  on  its 
banks  ? " 

"Vera  true,  kinswoman,"  said  the  Bailie;  "  but  for 
a'  that,  the  burn  wad  be  glad  to  hae  the  mill-dam  back 
again  in  simmer,  when  the  chuckie  stanes  are  white  in 
the  sun.     I  ken  weel  eneugh  you  Hieland  folk  hand  us 


INTERVIEW  AVITIt  HELEN  MACOREGOR.  123 

Glasgow  people  light  and  cheap  for  our  language  and 
our  claes ; — but  everybody  speaks  their  native  tongue 
that  they  learned  in  infancy  ;  and  it  would  be  a  daft-like 
thing  to  see  me  wi'  my  fat  wame  in  a  short  Hieland 
coat,  and  my  puir  short  houghs  gartered  below  the  knee, 
like  ane  o'  your  lang-legged  gillies.     Mair  by  token, 
kinswoman,"  he  continued,  in  defiance  of  various  inti- 
mations by  which  Dougal  seemed  to  recommend  silence, 
as  well  as  of  the  marks  of  impatience  which  the  Amazon 
evinced  at  his  loquacity,  "I  wad  hae  ye  to  mind  that 
the  king's  errand  whiles  comes  in  the  cadger's  gate,  and 
that,  for  as  high  as  ye  may  think  o'  the  gudeman,  as  it's 
right  every  wife   should   honor    her   husband — there's 
Scripture  warrant  for  that — yet  as  high  as  ye  baud  him, 
as   I  was   saying,  I   hae  been   serviceable  to  Rob  ere 
now  ; — forbye  a  set  o'  pearlins  I  sent  yoursell  when  ye 
was  gaun  to  be  married,  and  when  Rob  was  an  honest 
weel-doing  drover,  and  nane  o'  this  unlawfu'  wark,  wi' 
fighting,  and  flashes,  and  fluff"-gibs,  disturbing  the  king's 
peace  and  disarming  his  soldiers." 

He  had  apparently  touched  on  a  key  which  his  kins- 
woman could  not  brook.  She  drew  herself  up  to  her 
full  height,  and  betrayed  the  acuteness  of  her  feelings 
by  a  laugh  of  mingled  scorn  and  bitterness. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  you,  and  such  as  you,  might  claim 
a  relation  to  us  when  we  stooped  to  be  the  paltry 
wretches  fit  to  exist  under  your  dominion,  as  your  hew- 
ers of  wood  and  drawers  of  water — to  find  cattle  for 
your  banquets,  and  subjects  for  your  laws  to  oppress 
and  trample  on.  But  now  we  are  free — free  by  the 
very  act  which  left  us  neither  house  nor  hearth,  food 
nor  covering — which  bereaved  me  of  all — of  all — and 


124  INTERVIEW  WITH  HELEN  MACGREGOR. 

makes  me  eroan  v/hen  I  think  I  must  still  cumber  the 
earth  for  other  purposes  than  those  of  vengeance.  And 
I  will  carry  on  the  work  this  day  has  so  well  com- 
menced, by  a  deed  that  shall  break  all  bands  between 
MacGregor  and  the  Lowland  churles.  Here — Allan — 
Dougal — bind  these  Sassenachs  neck  and  heel  together, 
and  throw  them  into  the  Highland  loch  to  seek  for  their 
Highland  kinsfolk." 

The  Bailie,  alarmed  at  this  mandate,  was  commencing 
an  expostulation,  which  probably  would  have  only  in- 
flamed the  violent  passion  of  the  person  whom  he 
addressed,  when  Dougal  threw  himself  between  them, 
and  in  his  own  language,  which  he  spoke  with  a  Quency 
and  rapidity  strongly  contrasted  by  the  slow,  imperfect, 
and  idiot-like  manner  in  which  he  expressed  himself  in 
English,  poured  forth  what  I  doubt  not  was  a  very  ani- 
mated pleading  in  our  behalf. 

His  mistress  replied  to  him,  or  rather  cut  short  his 
harangue,  by  exclaiming  in  English  (as  if  determined  to 
make  us  taste  in  anticipation  the  full  bitterness  of  death) 
— "  Base  dog,  and  son  of  a  dog,  do  you  dispute  my 
commands?  Should  I  tell  ye  to  cut  out  their  tongues 
and  put  them  into  each  other's  throats,  to  try  which 
would  there  best  knap  Southron,  or  to  tear  out  their 
hearts  and  put  them  into  each  other's  breasts,  to  see 
which  would  there  best  plot  treason  against  the  Mac- 
Gregor— and  such  things  have  been  done  of  old  in  the 
day  of  revenge,  when  our  fathers  had  wrongs  to  redress 
— Should  I  command  you  to  do  this,  would  it  be  your 
part  to  dispute  my  orders  ?" 

"  To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,"  Dougal  replied,  with  accents 
of  profound  submission;  "her  pleasure  suld  be  done — 


MEETING  OF  ROB  ROY  AXD  BAILIE  NICOL  JARVIE.       125 

tat's  but  reason ;  but  an  it  were — tat  is  an  it  could  be 
thought  the  same  to  her  to  coup  the  ill-faured  loon  of  ta 
red-coat  Captain,  and  hims  corporal  Cramp,  and  twa 
three  o'  the  red-coats  into  the  loch,  hersel  wad  do't  wi' 
muckle  mair  jrreat  satisfaction  than  to  hurt  ta  honest  civil 
shentlemans  as  were  friends  to  the  Gregarach,  and  came 
up  on  the  Chief's  assurance,  and  not  to  do  no  treason, 
as  her  sell  could  testify." 

The  lady  was  about  to  reply,  when  a  few  wild  strains 
of  a  pibroch  were  heard  advancing  up  the  road  from 
Aberfoil,  the  same,  probably,  which  had  reached  the 
ears  of  Captain  Thornton's  rear-guard,  and  determined 
him  to  force  his  way  onward  rather  than  return  to  the 
village,  on  finding  the  pass  occupied.  The  skirmish 
being  of  very  short  duration,  the  armed  men  who  follow- 
ed this  martial  melody,  had  not,  although  quickening 
their  march  when  they  heard  the  firing,  been  able  to 
arrive  in  time  sufficient  to  take  any  share  in  the  rencon- 
tre. The  victory,  therefore,  was  complete  without 
them,  and  they  now  arrived  only  to  share  in  the  triumph 
of  their  countrymen. 


MEETING    OF    ROB    ROY 

AND     BAILIE     NICOL     JARVIE. 

The  Bailie,  seated  on  a  stool^by  the  fireside,  received, 
with  a  sort  of  reserved  dignity,  the  welcomes  of  Rob 


126  MEETING  OF   ROB  ROY 

Roy,  the  apologies  which  he  made  for  his  indifferent 
accommodation,  and  his  inquiries  after  his  health. 

"  I  am  pretty  weel,  kinsman,"  said  the  Bailie — "  in- 
different wee],  I  thank  ye  ;  and  for  accommodations, 
ane  canna  expect  to  carry  about  the  Saut-Market  at  his 
tail,  as  a  snail  does  his  caup  ; — and  I  am  blythe  that  ye 
hae  gotten  out  o'  tlie  hand  o'  your  unfreends." 

"  Weel,  weel,  then,"  answered  Roy,  "  what  is't  ails 
ye,  man? — a's  weel  that  ends  weel ! — the  warld  will  last 
our  day.  Come,  take  a  cup  o'  brandy — your  father  the 
deacon  could  tak  ane  at  an  orra  time." 

"  It  might  be  he  might  do  sae,  Robin,  after  fatigue, 
whilk  has  been  my  lot  mair  ways  than  ane  this  day. 
But,"  he  continued,  slowly  filling  up  a  little  wooden  stoup 
which  might  hold  about  three  glasses, "  he  was  a  mode- 
derate  man  of  his  bicker,  as  I  am  mysell — Here's  wus- 
sing  health  to  ye,  Robin"  (a  sip),  "  and  your  weelfare 
here  and  hereafter"  (another  taste),  "  and  also  to  my 
cousin  Helen,  and  to  your  twa  hopefu'  lads,  of  whom 
mair  anon." 

So  saying,  he  drank  up  the  contents  of  the  cup  with 
great  gravity  and  deliberation,  while  MacGregor  winked 
aside  to  me,  as  if  in  ridicule  of  the  air  of  wisdom  and 
superior  authority  which  the  Bailie  assumed  towards 
him  in  their  intercourse,  and  whicli  he  exercised  when 
Rob  was  at  the  head  of  his  armed  clan,  in  full  as  great, 
or  a  greater  degree,  than  when  he  was  at  the  Bailie's 
mercy  in  the  Tolbooth  of  Glasgow.  It  seemed  to  me, 
that  MacGregor  wished  me,  as  a  stranger,  to  understand, 
that  if  he  submitted  to  the  tone  which  his  kinsman  as- 
sumed, it  was  partly  out  of  deference  to  the  rights  of 
hospitality,  but  still  more  for  the  jest's  sake. 


AND  BAILIE  NICOL  JARVIE.  127 

As  the  Bailie  set  down  his  cup  he  recognized  me,  and 
giving  me  a  cordial  welcome  on  my  return,  he  waived 
farther  communicalion  with  me  for  the  present. — "  I  will 
speak  to  your  matters  anon;  I  maun  begin,  as  in  reason, 
wi'  those  of  my  kinsman.  I  presume,  Robin,  there's 
naebody  here  will  carry  aught  o'  what  I  am  gaun  to  say 
to  the  toun-council  or  elsewhere,  to  my  prejudice  or  to 
yours?" 

"  Make  yourself  easy  on  that  head,  cousin  Nicol," 
answered  MacGregor;  "the  tae  half  of  the  gillies  winna 
ken  what  ye  say,  and  the  tother  winna  care — besides, 
that  I  wad  stow  the  tongue  out  o'  the  head  o'  ony  o* 
them  that  suld  presume  to  say  ower  again  ony  speech 
held  wi'  me  in  their  presence." 

"Aweel,  cousin,  sic  being  the  case,  and  Mr.  Osbald- 
istone  here  being  a  prudent  youth,  and  a  safe  friend, 
I'se  plainly  tell  ye,  ye  are  breeding  up  your  family  to 
gang  an  ill  gate."  Then  clearing  his  voice  with  a  pre- 
liminary hem,  he  addressed  his  kinsman. — "  Ye  ken 
yoursell  ye  hand  light  by  the  law  ;  and  for  my  cousin 
Helen,  forbye  that  her  reception  o'  me  this  blessed  day, 
whilk  I  excuse  on  account  of  perturbation  of  mind,  was 
muckle  on  the  north  side  o*  friendly,  I  say  (outputting 
this  personal  reason  of  complaint)  I  hae  that  to  sae  o' 
your  wife" 

"  Say  nothing  of  her,  kinsman,"  said  Rob,  in  a  grave 
and  stern  tone,  "but  what  is  befitting  a  friend  to  say, 
and  her  husband  to  hear.  Of  me  you  are  welcome  to 
say  your  full  pleasure." 

"Aweel,  aweel,"  said  the  Bailie,  somewhat  discon- 
certed, "  we'se  let  that  be  a  pass-over — I  dinna  approve 
of  making  mischief  in  families.    But  here  are  your  twa 


128  MEETING  OF  ROB  ROY 

sons,  Hamish  and  Robin,  whilk  signifies,  as  I'm  gien 
to  understand,  James  and  Robert — I  trust  ye  will  call 
them  sae  in  future — there  comes  nae  gude  o'  Hamishes, 
and  Ecchines,  and  Angusses,  except  that  they're  the 
names  ane  aye  chances  to  see  in  the  indictments  at  the 
Western  Circuits  for  cow-lifting,  at  the  instance  of  his 
Majesty's  advocate  for  his  Majesty's  interest.  Aweel, 
but  the  twa  lads,  as  I  was  saying,  they  haenasae  muckle 
as  the  ordinar  grunds,  man,  of  liberal  education — they 
dinna  ken  the  very  multiplication-table  itself,  whilk  is 
the  root  of  a'  usefu'  knowledge,  and  they  did  naething 
but  laugh  and  fleer  at  me  when  I  tauld  them  my  mind 
on  their  ignorance — It's  my  belief  they  can  neither  read, 
write,  nor  cipher,  if  sic  a  thing  could  be  believed  o'  ane's 
ain  connections  in  a  Christian  land." 

"  If  they  could,  kinsman,"  said  MacGregor,  with 
great  indifference,  "  their  learning  must  have  come  o' 
free  will,  for  whar  the  deil  was  I  to  get  them  a  teacher? 
—wad  ye  hae  had  me  put  on  the  gate  o'  your  Divinity- 
Hall  at  Glasgow  College,  '  Wanted,  a  tutor  for  Rob 
Roy's  bairns  ?'  " 

"  Na,  kinsman,"  replied  Mr.  Jarvie,  "  ye  might  hae 
sent  the  lads  whar  they  could  hae  learned  the  fear  o' 
God,  and  the  usages  of  civilized  creatures." 

"  Umph  !"  answered  Rob  ;  "  Hamish  can  bring  down 
a  blackcock  when  he's  on  the  wing  wi'  a  single  bullet, 
and  Rob  can  drive  a  dirk  through  a  twa  inch  board." 

"Sae  muckle  the  waur  for  them,  cousin  !  sae  muckle 
the  waur  for  them  baith  !"  answered  the  Glasgow  mer- 
chant in  a  tone  of  great  decision  ;  "  an  they  ken  nae- 
thing better  than  that,  they  had  better  no  ken  that  nei- 
ther.    Tell  me  yoursell,  Rob,  what  has  a'  this  cutting, 


AND  BAILIE  NICOL  JARVIE.  129 

and  stabbing,  and  shooting,  and  driving  of  dirks,  whe- 
ther through  human  flesh  or  fir-deals,  dune  for  your- 
sell  ? — and  werena  ye  a  happier  man  at  the  tail  o'  your 
nowte-bestial,  when  ye  were  in  an  honest  calling,  than 
ever  ye  hae  been  since,  at  the  head  o'  your  Hieland 
kernes  and  gally-glasses  ?" 

I  observed  that  MacGregor,  while  his  well-meaning 
kinsman  spoke  to  him  in  this  manner,  turned  and 
writhed  his  body  like  a  man  who  indeed  sufl'ers  pain, 
but  is  determined  no  groan  shall  escape  his  lips ;  and  I 
longed  for  an  opportunity  to  interrupt  the  well-meant, 
but,  as  it  was  obvious  to  me,  quite  mistaken  strain,  in 
which  Mr.  Jarvie  addressed  this  extraordinary  person. 
The  dialogue,  however,  came  to  an  end  without  my 
interference. 

"  And  sae,"  said  the  Bailie,  "  I  hae  been  thinking, 
Rob,  that  as  it  may  be  ye  are  ower  deep  in  the  black 
book  to  win  a  pardon,  and  ower  auld  to  mend  your- 
sell,  that  it  wad  be  a  pity  to  bring  up  twa  hopefu'  lads 
to  sic  a  godless  trade  as  your  ain,  and  I  wad  blithely 
tak  them  for  prentices  at  the  loom,  as  I  began  mysell 
and  my  father  the  deacon  afore  me,  though,  praise  to 
the  Giver,  1  only  trade  now  as  wholesale  dealer — And 
—and" 

He  saw  a  storm  gathering  on  Rob's  brow,  which 
probably  induced  him  to  throw  in,  as  a  sweetener  of  an 
obnoxious  proposition,  what  he  had  reserved  to  crown 
his  own  generosity,  had  it  been  embraced  as  an  accept- 
able one; — "  and  Robin,  lad,  ye  needna  look  sae  glum, 
for  I'll  pay  the  prentice-fee,  and  never  plague  ye  for  the 
thousand  merks  neither." 

"  Ceade  millia  diooitl,  hundred  thousand  devils !" 


130  MEETING  OF  ROB  ROY 

exclaimed  Rob,  rising  and  striding  through  the  hut. 
*'  My  sons  weavers  ! — Millia  molligheart ! — but  I  wad 
see  every  loom  in  Glasgow,  beam,  treddies,  and  shut- 
tles, burnt  sooner !" 

With  some  difficulty  I  made  the  Bailie,  who  was  pre- 
paring a  reply,  comprehend  the  risk  and  impropriety  of 
pressing  our  host  on  this  topic,  and  in  a  minute  he  re- 
covered, or  reassumed,  his  serenity  of  temper. 

"But  ye  mean  weel — ye  mean  weel,"  said  he;  "so 
gie  me  your  hand,  Nicol,  and  if  ever  I  put  my  sons 
apprentice,  I  will  gie  you  the  refusal  o'  them.  And, 
as  you  say,  there's  the  thousand  merks  to  be  settled 
between  us.  Here,  Eachin  MacAnaleister,  bring  me 
my  sporran." 

The  person  he  addressed,  a  tall,  strong  mountaineer, 
who  seemed  to  act  as  MacGregor's  lieutenant,  brought 
from  some  place  of  safety  a  large  leathern  pouch,  such 
as  Highlanders  of  rank  wear  before  them  when  in  full 
dress,  made  of  the  skin  of  the  sea  otter,  richly  garnished 
with  silver  ornaments  and  studs. 

"  I  advise  no  man  to  attempt  opening  this  sporran  till 
he  has  my  secret,"  said  Rob  Roy;  and  then  twisting 
one  button  in  one  direction,  and  another  in  another, 
pulling  one  stud  upward,  and  pressing  another  down- 
ward, the  mouth  of  the  purse,  which  was  bound  with 
massive  silver-plate,  opened  and  gave  admittance  to  his 
hand.  He  made  me  remark,  as  if  to  break  short  the 
subject  on  which  Bailie  Jarvie  had  spoken,  that  a  small 
steel  pistol  was  concealed  within  the  purse,  the  trigger 
of  which  was  connected  with  the  mounting,  and  made 
part  of  the  machinery,  so  that  the  weapon  would  cer- 
tainly be  discharged,  and  in  all  probability  its  contents 


AND  BAILIE  NICOL  JARVIE.  131 

lodged  in  the  person  of  any  one,  who,  being  unac- 
quainted with  the  secret,  sliould  tamper  with  the  lock 
which  secured  his  treasure.  "  This,"  said  he,  touching 
the  pistol — "  this  is  the  keeper  of  my  privy  purse." 

The  simplicity  of  tlie  contrivance  to  secure  a  furred 
pouch,  which  could  have  been  ripped  open  without  any 
attempt  on  the  spring,  reminded  me  of  the  verses  in  the 
Odyssey,  where  Ulysses,  in  a  yet  ruder  age,  is  content 
to  secure  his  property  by  casting  a  curious  and  involved 
complication  of  cordage  around  the  sea-chest  in  which 
it  was  deposited. 

The  Bailie  put  on  his  spectacles  to  examine  the 
mechanism,  and  when  he  had  done,  returned  it  with  a 
smile,  and  a  sigh,  observing — "  Ah  !  Rob,  had  ither 
folk's  purses  been  as  weel  guarded,  I  doubt  if  your 
sporran  wad  hae  been  as  weel  filled  as  it  kythes  to  be 
by  the  weight." 

"Never  mind,  kinsman,"  said  Rob,  laughing;  "it 
will  aye  open  for  a  friend's  necessity,  or  to  pay  a  just 
due — and  here,"  he  added,  pulling  out  a  rouleau  of  gold, 
"  here  is  your  ten  hundred  merks — count  them,  and  see 
that  you  are  full  and  justly  paid." 

Mr.  Jarvie  took  the  money  in  silence,  and  weighing 
it  in  his  hand  for  an  instant,  laid  it  on  the  table,  and 
replied,  "  Rob  I  canna  tak  it — I  downa  intromit  with 
it — there  can  na  gude  come  o't — I  hae  seen  ower  weel 
the  day  what  sort  of  a  gate  your  gowd  is  made  in — ill 
got  gear  ne'er  prospered ;  and,  to  be  plain  wi'  you,  I 
winna  meddle  wi't — it  looks  as  there  might  be  bluid  on't." 

"  Troutsho  !"  said  the  outlaw,  affecting  an  indiffer- 
ence which,  perhaps,  he  did  not  altogether  feel ;  "  it  's 
gude  French  gowd,  and   ne'er   was    in    Scotchman's 


132     MEETING  OF  ROB  ROY  AND  BAILIE  NICOL  JARVIE. 

pouch  before  mine.  Look  at  them,  man — they  are 
a'  louis  d'ors,  bright  and  bonnie  as  the  day  they  were 
coined." 

"  The  waur,  the  waur — just  sae  muckle  tl>e  waur, 
Robin,"  replied  the  Bailie,  averting  his  eyes  from  the 
money,  though,  like  Caesar  on  the  Lupercal,  his  fingers 
seemed  to  itch  for  it — "Rebellion  is  waur  than  witch- 
craft, or  robbery  either;  there's  gospel  warrant  for't. 

"Never  mind  the  warrant,  kinsman,"  said  the  free- 
booter; "you  come  by  the  gowd  honestly,  and  in  pay- 
ment of  a  just  debt — it  came  from  the  one  king,  you 
may  gie  it  to  the  other,  if  ye  like  ;  and  it  will  just  serve 
for  a  weakening  of  the  enemy,  and  in  the  point  where 
puir  King  James  is  weakest  too,  for,  God  knows,  he 
has  hands  and  hearts  enough,  but  I  doubt  he  wants  the 
siller." 

"  He'll  no  get  mony  Hielanders  then,  Robin,"  said 
Mr.  Jarvie,  as,  again  replacing  his  spectacles  on  his 
nose,  he  undid  the  rouleau,  and  began  to  count  its  con- 
tents. 

"  Nor  Lowlanders  neither,"  said  MacGregor,  arch- 
ing his  eyebrow,  and,  as  he  looked  at  me,  directing  a 
glance  towards  Mr.  Jarvie,  who,  all  unconscious  of  the 
ridicule,  weighed  each  piece  with  habitual  scrupulosity  ; 
and  having  told  twice  over  the  sum,  which  amounted 
to  the  discharge  of  his  debt  principal  and  interest,  he 
returned  three  pieces  to  buy  his  kinswoman  a  gown, 
as  he  expressed  himself,  and  a  brace  more  for  the  twa 
bairns,  as  he  called  them,  requesting  they  might  buy 
anything  they  liked  with  them  except  gunpowder. 
The  Highlander  started  at  his  kinsman's  unexpected 


FUNERAL  OBSEQUIES  OF  LORD  RAVENSWOOD.        133 

generosity,  but  courteously  accepted  his  gift,  which  he 
deposited  for  the  time  in  his  well-secured  pouch. 


FUNERAL    OBSEQUIES    OF 

LORD  RAVENSWOOD. 

In  the  gorge  of  a  pass  or  mountain  glen,  ascending 
from  the  fertile  plains  of  East  Lothian,  there  stood  in 
former  times  an  extensive  castle,  of  which  only  the  ruins 
are  now  visible.  Its  ancient  proprietors  were  a  race  of 
powerful  and  warlike  barons,  who  bore  the  same  name 
with  the  castle  itself,  which  was  Ravenswood.  Their 
line  extended  to  a  retnote  period  of  antiquity,  and  they 
had  intermarried  with  the  Douglasses,  Humes,  Swin- 
tons,  Hays,  and  other  families  of  power  and  distinction 
in  the  same  country.  Their  history  was  frequently  in- 
volved in  that  of  Scotland  itself,  in  whose  annals  their 
feats  are  recorded.  The  Castle  of  Ravenswood,  occu- 
pying, and  in  some  measure  commanding,  a  pass  betwixt 
Berwickshire,  or  the  Merse,  as  the  south-eastern  pro- 
vince of  Scotland  is  termed,  and  the  Lothians,  was  of 
importance  both  in  times  of  foreign  war  and  domestic 
discord.  It  was  frequently  besieged  with  ardor,  and 
defended  with  obstinacy,  and,  of  course,  its  owners 
played  a  conspicuous  part  in  story.  But  their  house 
had  its  revolutions,  like  all  sublunary  things;  it  became 
greatly  declined  from  its  splendor  about  the  middle  of 


134        FUNERAL  OBSEQUIES  OF  LORD  RAVENSWOOD. 

the  17th  century;  and  towards  the  period  of  the  Revo- 
lution, the  last  proprietor  of  Ravenswood  Castle  saw 
himself  compelled  to  part  with  the  ancient  family  seat, 
and  to  remove  himself  to  a  lonely  and  sea-beaten  tower, 
■which,  situated  on  the  bleak  shores  between  St.  Abb's 
Head  and  the  village  of  Eyemouth,  looked  out  on  the 
lonely  and  boisterous  German  Ocean.  A  black  domain 
of  wild  pasture-land  surrounded  their  new  residence, 
and  formed  the  remains  of  their  property. 

Lord  Ravenswood,  the  heir  of  this  ruined  family, 
was  far  from  bending  his  mind  to  his  new  condition  of 
life.  In  the  civil  war  of  1689,  he  had  espoused  the 
sinking  side,  and  although  he  had  escaped  without  the 
forfeiture  of  life  or  land,  his  blood  had  been  attainted, 
and  his  title  abolished.  He  was  now  called  Lord  Ra- 
venswood only  in  courtesy. 

This  forfeited  nobleman  inherited  the  pride  and  tur- 
bulence, though  not  the  fortune  of  his  house,  and,  as  he 
imputed  the  final  declension  of  his  family  to  a  particular 
individual,  he  honored  that  person  with  his  full  portion 
of  hatred.  This  was  the  very  man  who  had  now  be- 
come, by  purchase,  proprietor  of  Ravenswood,  and  the 
domains  of  which  the  heir  of  the  house  now  stood  dis- 
possessed. He  was  descended  of  a  family  much  less 
ancient  than  that  of  Lord  Ravenswood,  and  which  had 
only  risen  to  wealth  and  political  importance  during  the 
great  civil  wars.  He  himself  had  been  bred  to  the  bar, 
and  had  held  high  offices  in  the  state,  maintaining 
through  life  the  character  of  a  skilful  fisher  in  the 
troubled  waters  of  a  state  divided  by  factions,  and  go- 
verned by  delegated  authority;  and  of  one  who  contrived 
to  amass  considerable   sums   of  money  in   a  country 


'in 


'Mi^M 


...   .ii'i, 


o 


o 

H 

n 
;>■ 

2! 


FUNERAL  OBSEQUIES  OF  LORD  RAVENSWOOD.        135 

where  there  was  but  little  to  be  gathered,  and  who 
equally  knew  the  value  of  wealth,  and  the  various  means 
of  augmenting  it,  and  using  it  as  an  engine  of  increasing 
his  power  and  influence. 

Thus  qualified  and  gifted,  he  was  a  dangerous  anta- 
gonist to  the  fierce  and  imprudent  Ravenswood.     Whe- 
ther he  had  given  him  good  cause  for  the  enmity  with 
which  the  Baron  regarded  him,  was  a  point  on  which 
men  spoke  differently.     Some  said  the  quarrel  arose 
merely  from  the  vindictive  spirit  and  envy  of  Lord  Ra- 
venswood,  who  could   not    patiendy   behold   another, 
though  by  just  and  fair  purchase,  become  the  proprietor 
of  the  estate  and  casde  of  his  forefathers.  But  the  greater 
part  of  the  public,  prone  to  slander  the  wealthy  in  their 
absence,  as  to  flatter  them  in  their  presence,  held  a  less 
charitable  opinion.  They  said,  that  the  Lord  Keeper  (for 
to  this  height  Sir  William  Ashton  had  ascended)  had,  pre- 
vious to  the  final  purchase  of  the  estate  of  Ravenswood, 
been  concerned  in  extensive  pecuniary  transactions  with 
the  former  proprietor ;  and,  rather  intimating  what  was 
probable  than  aflirming  anything  positively,  they  asked 
which  party  was  likely  to  have  the  advantage  in  stat- 
ing and  enforcing  the  claims  arising  out  of  these  com- 
plicated affairs,  and  more  than  hinted  the  advantages 
which  the  cool  lawyer  and  able  politician  must  neces- 
sardy  possess  over  the  hot,  fiery,  and  imprudent  cha- 
racter, whom  he  had  involved  in  legal  toils  and  pecu- 
niar}^ snares, 

Allan  Lord  Ravenswood,  the  late  proprietor  of  that 
ancient  mansion  and  the  large  estate  annexed  to  it,  con- 
tinued^for  some  time  to  wage  inefi'ectual  war  with  his 
successor  concerning  various  points  to  which  their  for- 


136       FUNERAL  OBSEQUIES  OF  LORD  RAVENSWOOD. 

mer  transactions  had  given  rise,  and  which  were  suc- 
cessively determined  in  favor  of  the  wealthy  and  pow- 
erful competitor,  until  death  closed  the  litigation,  by 
summoning  Ravenswood  to  a  higher  bar.  His  son 
witnessed  his  dying  agonies,  and  heard  the  curses  which 
he  breathed  against  his  adversary,  as  if  they  had  con- 
veyed to  him  a  legacy  of  vengeance. 

It  was  a  November  morning,  and  the  cliffs  which 
overlooked  the  ocean  were  hung  with  thick  and  heavy 
mist,  when  the  portals  of  the  ancient  and  half-ruinous 
tower,  in  which  Lord  Ravenswood  had  spent  the  last 
and  troubled  years  of  his  life,  opened,  that  his  mortal 
remains  might  pass  forward  to  an  abode  yet  more  dreary 
and  lonely.  The  pomp  of  attendance,  to  which  the 
deceased  had,  in  his  latter  years,  been  a  stranger,  was 
revived  as  he  was  about  to  be  consigned  to  the  realms 
of  forgetfulness. 

Banner  after  banner,  with  the  various  devices  and 
coats  of  this  ancient  family  aud  its  connections,  followed 
each  other  in  mournful  procession  from  under  the  low- 
browed archway  of  the  court-yard.  The  principal 
gentry  of  the  country  attended  in  the  deepest  mourning, 
and  tempered  the  pace  of  their  long  train  of  horses  to 
the  solemn  march  befitting  the  occasion.  Trumpets, 
with  banners  of  crape  attached  to  them,  sent  forth  their 
long  and  melancholy  notes  to  regulate  the  movements 
of  the  procession.  An  immense  train  of  inferior  mourn- 
ers and  menials  closed  the  rear,  which  had  not  yet  is- 
sued from  the  castle-gate,  when  the  van  had  reached 
the  chapel  where  the  body  was  to  be  deposited. 

Contrary  to  the  custom,  and  even  to  the  law  of  the 
time,  the   body  was  met  by  a  priest  of  the   Scottish 


FUNERAL  OBSEQUIES  OF  LORD  RAVENSWOOD.        137 

Episcopal  communion,  arrayed  in  his  surplice,  and  pre- 
pared to  read  over  the  coffin  of  the  deceased  the  fune- 
ral service  of  the  church.  Such  had  been  the  de- 
sire of  Lord  Ravenswood  in  his  last  illness,  and  it 
was  readily  complied  with  by  the  Tory  gentlemen,  or 
Cavaliers,  as  they  affected  to  style  themselves,  in  which 
faction  most  of  his  kinsmen  were  enrolled.  The  Pres- 
byterian church-judicatory  of  the  bounds,  considering 
the  ceremony  as  a  bravading  insult  upon  their  authority, 
had  apphed  to  the  Lord  Keeper,  as  the  nearest  privy- 
councillor,  for  a  warrant  to  prevent  its  being  carried 
into  effect;  so  that  when  the  clergyman  had  opened 
his  prayer-book,  an  officer  of  the  law  supported  by 
some  armed  men,  commanded  him  to  be  silent;  an  in- 
sult which  fired  the  whole  assembly  with  indignation, 
was  particularly  and  instantly  resented  by  the  only  son 
of  the  deceased,  Edgar,  popularly  called  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood,  a  j'outh  about  twenty  years  of  age.  He 
clapped  his  hand  on  his  sword,  and,  bidding  the  official 
person  to  desist  at  his  peril  from  farther  interruption, 
commanded  the  clergyman  to  proceed.  The  man  at- 
tempted to  enforce  his  commission,  but  as  an  hundred 
swords  at  once  glittered  in  the  air,  he  contented  himself 
with  protesting  against  the  violence  which  had  been 
offered  to  him  in  the  execution  of  his  duty,  and  stood 
aloof,  a  sullen  and  moody  spectator  of  the  ceremonial, 
muttering  as  one  who  should  say,  "  You'll  rue  the  day 
that  clogs  me  with  this  answer." 

The  scene  was  worthy  of  an  artist's  pencil.  Under 
the  very  arch  of  the  house  of  death,  the  clergyman, 
aflVighted  at  the  scene,  and  trembling  for  his  own  safety, 
hastily  and  unwillingly  rehearsed  the  solemn  service  of 

VOL.  II. — 10 


138        FUNERAL  OBSEQUIES  OF  LORD  RAVENSWOOD. 

the  church,  and  spoke  dust  to  dust,  and  ashes  to  ashes, 
over  ruined  pride  and  decayed  prosperity.  Around 
stood  the  relations  of  the  deceased,  their  countenances 
more  in  anger  than  in  sorrow,  and  the  drawn  swords 
which  they  brandished  forming  a  violent  contrast  with 
their  deep  mourning  habits.  In  the  countenance  of  the 
young  man  alone,  resentment  seemed  for  the  moment 
overpowered  by  the  deep  agony  with  which  he  beheld 
his  nearest,  and  almost  his  only  friend,  consigned  to  the 
tomb  of  his  ancestry.  A  relative  observed  him  turn 
deadly  pale,  when,  all  rites  being  now  duly  observed, 
it  became  the  duty  of  the  chief  mourner  to  lower  down 
into  the  charnel  vault,  where  mouldering  coffins  showed 
their  tattered  velvet  and  decayed  plating,  the  head  of 
the  corpse  which  was  to  be  their  partner  in  corruption. 
He  stept  to  the  youth  and  offered  his  assistance,  which, 
by  a  mute  motion,  Edgar  Ravenswood  rejected.  Firmly, 
and  without  a  tear,  he  performed  that  last  duty.  The 
stone  was  laid  on  the  sepulchre,  the  door  of  the  aisle 
was  locked,  and  the  youth  took  possession  of  its  mas- 
sive key. 

As  the  crowd  left  the  chapel,  he  paused  on  the  steps 
which  led  to  its  Gothic  chancel.  "  GejiUemen  and 
friends,"  he  said,  "you  have  this  day  done  no  common 
duty  to  the  body  of  your  deceased  kinsman.  The  rites 
of  due  observance,  which,  in  other  countries,  are  allowed 
as  the  due  of  the  meanest  Christian,  would  this  day 
have  been  denied  to  the  body  of  your  relative — not 
certainly  sprung  of  the  meanest  house  in  Scotland — 
had  it  not  been  assured  to  him  by  your  courage.  Others 
bury  their  dead  in  sorrow  and  tears,  in  silence  and  in 
reverence;  our  funeral  rites  are  marred  by  the  intrusion 


Mp!ii^!;}ik^... 


z 

o 
o 
d 


V'''a'H, 


FUNERAL  OBSEQUIES  OF  LORD  RAVENSWOOU.        139 

of  bailiffs  and  ruffians,  and  our  grief — the  grief  due 
to  our  departed  friend — is  chased  from  our  cheeks  by 
the  glow  of  just  indignation.  But  it  is  well  that  I  know 
from  what  quiver  this  arrow  has  come  forth.  It  was 
only  he  that  dug  the  grave  who  could  have  the  mean 
cruelty  to  disturb  the  obsequies ;  and  Heaven  do  as  much 
to  me  and  more,  if  I  requite  not  to  this  man  and  his  house 
the  ruin  and  disgrace  he  has  brought  on  me  and  mine  !" 
The  mourners  returned  to  the  tower,  there,  accord- 
ing to  a  custom  but  recently  abolished  in  Scotland,  to 
carouse  deep  healths  to  the  memory  of  the  deceased, 
to  make  the  house  of  sorrow  ring  with  sounds  of 
jovially  and  debauch,  and  to  diminish,  by  the  expense 
of  a  large  and  profuse  entertainment,  the  limited  revenues 
of  the  heir  of  him  whose  funeral  they  thus  strangely 
honored.  It  was  the  custom,  however,  and  on  the  pre- 
sent occasion  it  was  fully  observed.  The  table  swam 
in  wine,  the  populace  feasted  in  the  court-yard,  the 
yeomen  in  the  kitchen  and  buttery ;  and  two  years' 
rent  of  Ravenswood's  remaining  property  hardly  de- 
frayed the  charge  of  the  funeral  revel.  The  wine  did 
its  office  on  all  but  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  a  title 
which  he  still  retained,  though  forfeiture  had  attached 
to  that  of  his  father.  He,  while  passing  around  the  cup 
which  he  himself  did  not  taste,  soon  listened  to  a  thou- 
sand exclamations  against  the  Lord  Keeper,  and  passion- 
ate protestations  of  attachment  to  himself,  and  to  the 
honor  of  his  house.  He  listened  with  dark  and  sullen 
brow  to  ebullitions  which  he  considered  justly  as  equally 
evanescent  with  the  crimson  bubbles  on  the  brink  of 
the  goblet,  or  at  least  with  the  vapors  which  its  contents 
excited  in  the  brains  of  the  revelers  around  him. 


140       FUNERAL  OBSEQUIES  OF  LORD  RAVENSWOOD. 

When  the  last  flask  was  emptied,  they  took  their 
leave,  with  deep  protestations — to  be  forgotten  on  the 
morrow,  if,  indeed,  those  who  made  them  should  not 
think  it  necessary  for  their  safety  to  make  a  more  so- 
lemn retractation. 

Accepting  tlieir  adieus  with  an  air  of  contempt  which 
he  could  scarce  conceal,  Ravenswood  at  length  beheld 
his  ruinous  habitation  cleared  of  this  confluence  of  riot- 
ous guests,  and  returned  to  the  deserted  hall,  which  now 
appeared  doubly  lonely  from  the  cessation  of  that  cla- 
mor to  which  it  had  so  lately  echoed.  But  its  space 
was  peopled  by  phantoms,  which  the  imagination  of  the 
young  heir  conjured  up  before  him — the  tarnished  honor 
and  degraded  fortunes  of  his  house,  the  destruction  of 
his  own  hopes,  and  the  triumph  of  that  family  by  whom 
they  had  been  ruined.  To  a  mind  naturally  of  a 
gloomy  cast,  here  was  ample  room  for  meditation,  and 
the  musings  of  young  Ravenswood  were  deep  and  un- 
witnessed. 

The  peasant,  who  shows  the  ruins  of  the  tower, 
which  still  crown  the  beetling  cliff  and  behold  the  war 
of  the  waves,  though  no  more  tenanted  save  by  the  sea- 
mew  and  cormorant,  even  yet  affirms,  that  on  this  fatal 
night  the  Master  of  Ravenswood,  by  the  bitter  excla- 
mations of  his  despair,  evoked  some  evil  fiend,  under 
whose  maliffuant  influence  the  future  tissue  of  incidents 
was  woven.  Alas  !  what  fiend  can  suggest  more  des- 
perate counsels  than  those  adopted  under  the  guidance 
of  our  own  violent  and  unresisted  passions?"* 

*  The  imaginary  castle  of  Wolfs  Crag  has  been  identified  by 
some  lover  of  locality  with  that  of  Fast  Castle.  Fortalices  of  this 
description  are  found  occnpying.  like  osprey"s  nests,  projecting 


141 


RAVENSWOOD'S   LAST   INTERVIEW 

WITH  LUCY  ASHTOX. 

St.  Jude's  day  came,  the  term  assigned  by  Lucy 
herself  as  the  farthest  date  of  expectation,  and  there 
were  neither  letters  from,  nor  news  of,  Ravenswood. 
But  there  were  news  of  Bucklaw,  and  of  his  trusty  as- 
sociate Craigengelt,  who  arrived  early  in  the  morning 
for  the  completion  of  the  proposed  espousals,  and  for 
signing  the  necessary  deeds. 

These  had  been  carefully  prepared  under  the  revisal 
of  Sir  William  Ashton  himself,  it  having  been  resolved, 
on  account  of  the  state  of  Miss  Ashton's  health,  as  it 
was  said,  that  none  save  the  parties  immediately  inte- 
rested should  be  present  when  the  parchments  were 
subscribed.  It  was  farther  determined,  that  the  mar- 
riage should  be  solemnized  upon  the  fourth  day  after 
signing  the  articles,  a  measure  adopted  by  Lady  Ashton, 
in  order  that  Lucy  might  have  as  litde  time  as  possible 
to  recede,  or  relapse  into  intractability.  There  was  no 
appearance,  however,  of  her  doing  either.  She  heard 
the  proposed  arrangement  with  the  calm  indifference  of 
despair,  or  rather  with  an  apathy  arising  from  the  op- 
pressed and  stupefied  state  of  her  feelings. 

rocks,  or  promontories,  in  many  parts  of  the  eastern  coast  of 
Scotland,  and  the  position  of  Fast  Castle  seems  certainly  to  re- 
semble that  of  Wolf's  Crag  as  much  as  any  other,  while  its  vici- 
nity to  the  mountain  ridge  of  Lammermoor  renders  the  assimila- 
tion a  probable  one. 


142  ravenswood's  last  interview 

When  the  morning  compliments  of  the  bridegroom 
had  been  paid,  Miss  Ashton  was  left  for  some  time  to 
herself;  her  mother  remarking,  that  the  deeds  must  be 
signed  before  the  hour  of  noon,  in  order  that  the  mar- 
riage might  be  happy. 

Lucy  suffered  herself  to  be  attired  for  the  occasion  as 
the  taste  of  her  attendants  suggested,  and  was  of  course 
splendidly  arrayed.  Her  dress  was  composed  of  white 
satin  and  Brussels  lace,  and  her  hair  arranged  with  a 
profusion  of  jewels,  whose  lustre  made  a  strange  con- 
trast to  the  deadly  paleness  of  her  complexion,  and  to 
the  trouble  which  dwelt  in  her  unsettled  eye. 

The  business  of  the  dav  now  went  forward ;  Sir 
William  Ashton  signed  the  contract  with  legal  solemnity 
and  precision;  his  son,  with  military  nonchalance ;  and 
Bucklaw,  having  subscribed  as  rapidly  as  Craigengelt 
could  manage  to  turn  the  leaves,  concluded  by  wiping 
his  pen  on  that  worthy's  new  laced  cravat. 

It  was  now  Miss  Ashton's  turn  to  sign  the  writings, 
and  she  was  guided  by  her  watchful  mother  to  the  table 
for  that  purpose.  At  her  first  attempt  she  began  to 
•write  with  a  dry  pen,  and  when  the  circumstance  was 
pointed  out,  seemed  unable,  after  several  attempts,  to 
dip  it  in  the  massive  silver  inkstandish,  which  stood 
full  before  her.  Lady  Ashton's  vigilance  hastened  to 
supply  the  deficiency.  I  have  myself  seen  the  fatal 
deed,  and  in  the  distinct  characters  in  which  the  name 
of  Lucy  Ashton  is  traced  on  each  page,  there  is  only  a 
very  slight  tremulous  irregularity,  indicative  of  her  state 
of  mind  at  the  time  of  the  subscription.  But  the  last 
signature  is  incomplete,  defaced  and  blotted ;  for,  while 
her  hand  was  employed  in  tracing  it,  the  hasty  tramp 


WITH  LUCY  ASHTON.  143 

of  a  horse  was  heard  at  the  gate,  succeeded  by  a  step 
in  the  outer  gallery,  and  a  voice,  which,  in  a  command- 
ing tone,  bore  down  the  opposition  of  the  menials.  The 
pen  dropped  from  Lucy's  fingers,  as  she  exclEumed 
with  a  faint  shriek — "  He  is  come — he  is  come!" 

Hardly  had  Miss  Ashton  dropped  the  pen,  when  the 
door  of  the  apartment  flew  open,  and  the  Master  of 
Ravenswood  entered  the  apartment. 

He  planted  himself  fall  in  the  middle  of  the  apart- 
ment, opposite  to  the  table  at  which  Lucy  was  seated, 
on  whom,  as  if  she  had  been  alone  in  the  chamber,  he 
bent  his  eyes  with  a  mingled  expression  of  deep  grief 
and  deliberate  indignation.  His  dark-colored  riding 
cloak,  displaced  from  one  shoulder,  hung  around  one 
side  of  his  person  in  the  ample  folds  of  the  Spanish 
mantle.  The  rest  of  his  rich  dress  was  travel-soiled, 
and  deranged  by  hard  riding.  He  had  a  sword  by  his 
side,  and  pistols  in  his  belt.  His  slouched  hat,  which 
he  had  not  removed  at  entrance,  gave  an  additional 
gloom  to  his  dark  features,  which,  wasted  by  sorrow, 
and  marked  by  the  ghastly  look  communicated  by  long 
illness,  added  to  a  countenance  naturally  somewhat 
stern  and  wild,  a  fierce  and  even  savage  expression. 
He  said  not  a  single  word,  and  there  was  a  deep  silence 
in  the  company  for  more  than  two  minutes. 

It  was  broken  by  Lady  Ashton,  who  in  that  space 
partly  recovered  her  natural  audacity.  She  demanded 
to  know  the  cause  of  this  unauthorized  intrusion. 

"That  is  a  question,  madam,"  said  her  son,  "  which 
I  have  the  best  right  to  ask — and  I  must  request  of  the 
Master  of  Ravenswood  to  follow  me,  where  he  can 
answer  it  at  leisure." 


144  ravenswood's  last  inteuview 

Bucklaw  interposed,  saying, "  No  man  on  earth  should 
usurp  his  previous  right  in  demanding  an  explanation 
from  the  Master." 

"  I  will  relinquish  to  none,"  said  Colonel  Ashton* 
"  my  right  of  calling  to  account  the  man  who  has  oflered 
this  unparalleled  affront  to  my  family." 

"  Be  patient,  gentlemen,"  said  Ravenswood,  turning 
sternly  towards  them,  and  waving  his  hand  as  if  to 
impose  silence  on  their  altercation.  "If  you  are  as 
weary  of  your  lives  as  I  am,  I  will  find  time  and  place 
to  pledge  mine  against  one  or  both  ;  at  present,  I  have 
no  leisure  for  the  disputes  of  triflers." 

"  Triflers  !  "  echoed  Colonel  Ashton,  half  unsheathing 
his  sword,  while  Bucklaw  laid  his  hand  on  the  hilt  of 
that  which  Craigengelt  had  just  reached  him. 

Sir  William  Ashton,  alarmed  for  his  son's  safety, 
rushed  between  the  young  men  and  Ravenswood,  ex- 
claiming, "  My  son,  I  command  you — Bucklaw,  I  en- 
treat you — keep  the  peace,  iu  the  name  of  the  Queen 
and  of  the  law  !" 

The  passions  of  the  two  young  men  thus  counteract- 
ing each  other,  gave  Ravenswood  leisure  to  exclaim,  in 
a  stern  and  steady  voice,  "Silence! — let  him  who  really 
seeks  danger,  take  the  fitting  time  when  it  is  to  be  found  ; 
my  mission  here  will  be  shortly  accomplished. — Is  that 
your  handwriting,  madam  ?"  he  added  in  a  softer  tone, 
extending  towards  Miss  Ashton  her  last  letter. 

A  faltering  "Yes,"  seemed  rather  to  escape  from  her 
lips  than  to  be  uttered  as  a  voluntary  answer. 

"And  is  this  also  your  handwriting?"  extending 
towards  her  the  mutual  engagement. 

Lucy  remained  silent.     Terror,  and  a  yet  stronger 


WITH  LUCY  ASHTON.  145 

and  more  confused  feeling,  so  utterly  disturbed  her  un- 
derstanding, that  she  probably  scarcely  comprehended 
the  question  that  was  put  to  her. 

"If  you  design,"  said  Sir  William  Ashton,"  to  found 
any  legal  claim  on  that  paper,  sir,  do  not  expect  to  re- 
ceive any  answer  to  an  extrajudicial  question." 

"  Sir  William  Ashton,"  said  Ravenswood,  "  I  pray 
you,  and  all  who  hear  me,  that  you  will  not  mistake 
my  purpose.  If  this  young  lady,  of  her  own  free  will, 
desires  the  restoration  of  this  contract,  as  her  letter 
would  seem  to  imply — there  is  not  a  withered  leaf 
which  this  autumn  wind  strews  on  the  heath  that  is 
more  valueless  in  my  eyes.  But  I  must  and  will  hear 
the  truth  from  her  own  mouth — without  this  satisfac- 
tion I  will  not  leave  this  spot.  Murder  me  by  numbers 
you  possibly  may  ;  but  I  am  an  armed  man — I  am  a 
desperate  man — and  I  will  not  die  without  ample  ven- 
geance. This  is  my  resolution,  take  it  as  you  may. 
I  WILL  hear  her  determination  from  her  own  mouth; 
from  her  own  mouth,  alone,  and  without  witnesses  will 
I  hear  it.  Now,  choose,"  he  said,  drawing  his  sword 
with  the  right  hand,  and,  with  the  left,  by  the  same 
motion  taking  a  pistol  from  his  belt  and  cocking  it,  but 
turning  the  point  of  one  weapon,  and  the  muzzle  of  the 
other  to  the  ground, — "  Choose  if  you  will  have  this 
hall  floated  with  blood,  or  if  you  will  grant  me  the  de- 
cisive interview  with  my  affianced  bride,  which  the  laws 
of  God  and  the  country  alike  entitle  me  to  demand." 

All  recoiled  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  and  the  de- 
termined action  by  which  it  was  accompanied ;  for  the 
ecstasy  of  real  desperation  seldom  fails  to  overpower 
the  less  energetic  passions  by  which  it  may  be  opposed. 


146  ravenswood's  last  interview 

\_Ml  leave  the  room  excepting  Lady  Ashton,  who 
retnains  with  her  daughter,  and  the  clergyman.^ 

Ravenswood  sheathed  his  sword,  uncocked  and  re- 
turned his  pistol  to  his  belt,  walked  deliberately  to  the 
door  of  the  apartment,  which  he  bolted — returned, 
raised  his  hat  from  his  forehead,  and,  gazing  upon  Lucy 
with  eyes  in  which  an  expression  of  sorrow  overcame 
their  late  fierceness,  spread  his  disheveled  locks  back 
from  his  face,  and  said,  "  Do  you  know  me,  Miss  Ash- 
ton? — I  am  still  Edgar  Ravenswood."  She  was  silent, 
and  he  went  on  with  increasing  vehemence — "I  am  still 
that  Edgar  Ravenswood,  who,  for  your  affection,  re- 
nounced the  dear  ties  by  which  injured  honor  bound 
him  to  seek  vengeance.  I  am  that  Ravenswood,  who, 
for  your  sake,  forgave,  nay,  clasped  hands  in  friendship 
with  the  oppressor  and  pillager  of  his  house — the  traducer 
and  murderer  of  his  father." 

"My  daughter,"  answered  Lady  Ashton,  interrupting 
him,  "has  no  occasion  to  dispute  the  identity  of  your 
person;  the  venom  of  your  present  language  is  sufficient 
to  remind  her,  that  she  speaks  with  the  mortal  enemy 
of  her  father." 

"  I  pray  you  to  be  patient,  madam,"  answered  Ravens- 
wood ;  "  my  answer  must  come  from  her  own  lips. — 
Once  more.  Miss  Lucy  Ashton,  I  am  that  Ravenswood 
to  whom  you  granted  the  solemn  engagement,  which 
you  now  desire  to  retract  and  cancel." 

Lucy's  bloodless  lips  could  only  falter  out  the  words, 
"  It  was  my  mother." 

"She  speaks  truly,"  said  Lady  Ashton;  "It  was  I, 
who,  authorized  alike  by  the  laws  of  God  and  man,  ad- 
vised her,  and  concurred  with  her,  to  set  aside  an  un- 


WITH  LUCV  ASIITON.  147 

happy  and  precipitate  engagement,  and  to  annul  it  by 
the  authority  of  Scripture  itself." 

"Scripture!"  said  Ravenswood,  scornfully. 

"Let  him  hear  the  text,"  said  Lady  Ashton,  appeal- 
ing to  the  divine,  "  on  which  you  yourself,  with  cautious 
reluctance,  declared  the  nullity  of  the  pretended  engage- 
ment insisted  upon  by  this  violent  man." 

The  clergyman  took  his  clasped  Bible  from  his  pocket, 
and  read  the  following  words  : — '"i/*  a  woman  vow  a 
vow  unto  the  Lord,  and  bind  herself  by  a  bond,  being 
in  her  father''  s  house  in  her  youth;  and  her  father  hear 
her  vow,  and  her  bond  wherewith  she  hath  bound  her 
soul,  and  her  father  shall  hold  his  peace  at  her:  then 
all  her  vows  shall  stand,  ajid  every  voiv  wheretmth  she 
hath  bound  her  soul  shall  stand.''  " 

"And  was  it  not  even  so  with  us?"  interrupted  Ra- 
venswood. 

"  Control  thy  impatience,  young  man,"  answered  the 
divine,  "  and  hear  what  follows  in  the  sacred  text : — 
*But  if  her  father  disallow  her  in  the  day  that  he 
heareth;  not  any  of  her  vows,  or  of  her  bonds  where- 
with she  hath  bound  her  sold,  shall  stand  ;  and  the  Lord 
shall  forgive  her,  because  her  father  disallowed  her.'"' 

"And  was  not,"  said  Lady  Ashton,  fiercely  and  tri- 
umphantly breaking  in — "  was  not  ours  the  case  stated 
in  the  holy  writ  ? — Will  this  person  deny,  that  the  in- 
stant her  parents  heard  of  the  vow,  or  bond,  by  which 
our  daughter  had  bound  her  soul,  we  disallowed  the 
same  in  the  most  express  term.s,  and  informed  him  by 
writing  of  our  determination  ?" 

"And  is  this  all?"  said  Ravenswood,  looking  at  Lucy 
— "Are  you  willing  to  barter  sworn  faith,  the  exercise 


148  ravenswood's  last  interview 

of  free  will,  and  the  feelings  of  mutual  affection,  to  this 
wretched  hypocritical  sophistry? 

"Hear  him  !"  said  Lady  Ashton,  looking  to  the  cler- 
gyman— "  hear  the  blasphemer!" 

"  May  God  forgive  him,"  said  Bide-the-bent,  "  and 
enlighten  his  ignorance  !" 

"  Hear  what  I  have  sacrificed  for  you,"  said  Ravens- 
wood,  still  addressing  Lucy,  "  ere  you  sanction  what  has 
been  done  in  your  name.  The  honor  of  an  ancient  fa- 
mily, the  urgent  advice  of  my  best  friends,  have  been  in 
vain  used  to  sway  my  resolution  ;  neither  the  arguments 
of  reason,  nor  the  portents  of  superstition,  liave  shaken 
my  fidelity.  The  very  dead  have  arisen  to  warn  me,  and 
their  warning  has  been  despised.  Are  you  prepared  to 
pierce  my  heart  for  its  fidelity,  with  the  very  weapon 
which  my  rash  confidence  intrusted  to  your  grasp?" 

"  Master  of  Ravenswood,"  said  Lady  Ashton,  "you 
have  asked  what  questions  you  thought  fit.  You  see 
the  total  incapacity  of  my  daughter  to  answer  you.  But 
I  will  reply  for  her,  and  in  a  manner  which  you  cannot 
dispute.  You  desire  to  know  whether  Lucy  Ashton,  of 
her  own  free  will,  desires  to  annul  the  engagement  in 
which  she  has  been  trepanned.  You  have  her  letter 
under  her  own  hand,  demanding  the  surrender  of  it; 
and,  in  yet  more  full  evidence  of  her  purpose,  here  is 
the  contract  which  she  has  this  morning  subscribed,  in 
presence  of  this  reverend  gentleman,  with  Mr.  Hayston 
of  Bucklaw." 

Ravenswood  gazed  upon  the  deed,  as  if  petrified. 
"  And  it  was  without  fraud  or  compulsion,"  said  he, 
looking  towards  the  clergyman, "  that  Miss  Ashton  sub- 
scribed this  parchment?" 


WITH  LUCY  ASHTON.  149 

"1  vouch  it  upon  my  sacred  character." 

"  This  is  indeed,  madam,  an  undeniable  piece  of 
evidence,"  said  Ravenswood,  sternly  ;  and  it  will  be 
equally  unnecessary  and  dishonorable  to  waste  another 
word  in  useless  remonstrance  or  reproach.  There, 
madam,"  he  said,  laying  down  before  Lucy  the  signed 
paper  and  the  broken  piece  of  gold — "  there  are  the 
evidences  of  your  first  engagement ;  may  you  be  more 
faithful  to  that  which  you  have  just  formed.  I  will 
trouble  you  to  return  the  corresponding  tokens  of  my 
ill-placed  confidence — I  ought  rather  to  say,  of  my 
egregious  folly." 

Lucy  returned  the  scornful  glance  of  her  lover  with 
a  gaze,  from  which  perception  seemed  to  have  been 
banished;  yet  she  seemed  partly  to  have  understood  his 
meaning,  for  she  raised  her  hands  as  if  to  undo  a  blue 
ribbon  which  she  wore  around  her  neck.  She  was 
unable  to  accomplish  her  purpose,  but  Lady  Ashton  cut 
the  ribbon  asunder,  and  detached  the  broken  piece  of 
gold,  which  Miss  Ashton  had  till  then  worn  concealed 
in  her  bosom;  the  written  counterpart  of  the  lovers' 
engagement  she  for  some  time  had  had  in  her  own 
possession.  With  a  haughty  courtesy,  she  delivered 
both  to  Ravenswood,  who  was  much  softened  when  he 
took  the  piece  of  gold. 

"  And  she  could  wear  it  thus,"  he  said — speaking  to 
himself — "  could  wear  it  in  her  very  bosom — could 
wear  it  next  to  her  heart — even  when — But  complaint 
avails  not,"  he  said,  dashing  from  his  eye  tlie  tear  which 
had  gathered  in  it.  and  resuming  the  stern  composure 
of  his  manner.  He  strode  to  the  chimney,  and  threw 
into  the  fire  the  paper  and  piece  of  gold,  stamping  upon 


150      BRIDAL  AND  DEATH  OF  LUCY  ASHTON. 

the  coals  with  the  heel  of  his  boot,  as  if  to  insure  their 
destruction.  "  I  will  be  no  longer,"  he  then  said,  "  an 
intruder  here.  Your  evil  wishes,  and  your  worse  offices, 
Lady  Ashton,  I  will  only  return,  by  hoping  these  will 
be  your  last  machinations  against  your  daughter's  honor 
and  happiness. — And  to  you,  madam,"  he  said,  ad- 
dressing Lucy,  "  I  have  nothing  farther  to  say,  except 
to  pray  to  God  that  you  may  not  become  a  world's 
wonder  for  this  act  of  wilful  and  deliberate  perjury." — 
Having  uttered  these  words,  he  turned  on  his  heel,  and 
left  the  apartment. 


BRIDAL    AND    DEATH    OF 


LUCY  ASHTON. 


The  morning  dawned  bright  and  cheerily.  Tlie 
bridal  guests  assembled  in  gallant  troops  from  distant 
quarters.  Not  only  the  relations  of  Sir  William  Ash- 
ton, and  the  still  more  dignified  connections  of  his  lady, 
together  with  the  numerous  kinsmen  and  allies  of  the 
bridegroom,  were  present  upon  this  joyful  ceremony, 
gallantly  mounted,  arrayed,  and  caparisoned,  but  almost 
every  Presbyterian  family  of  distinction,  within  fifty 
miles,  made  a  point  of  attendance.  Splendid  refresh- 
ments awaited  the  guests  on  their  arrival,  and  after  these 
were  finished,  the  cry  was  to  horse.  The  bride  was 
led  forth  betwixt  her  brother  Henry  and  her  mother. 


BRIDAL  AND  DEATH  OF  LUCY  ASHTON.  151 

Her  gayety  of  the  preceding  day  had  given  rise  to  a  deep 
shade  of  melancholy,  which,  however,  did  not  misbe- 
come an  occasion  so  momentous.  There  was  a  light 
in  her  eyes,  and  a  color  in  her  cheek,  which  had  not 
been  kindled  for  many  a  day,  and  which,  joined  to  her 
great  beauty,  and  the  splendor  of  her  dress,  occasioned 
her  entrance  to  be  greeted  with  a  universal  murmur 
of  applause,  in  which  even  the  ladies  could  not  refrain 
from  joining.  While  the  cavalcade  were  getting  to 
horse,  Sir  William  Ashton,  a  man  of  peace  and  of  form, 
censured  his  son  Henry  for  having  begirt  himself  with 
a  military  sword  of  preposterous  length,  belonging  to 
his  brother,  Colonel  Ashton. 

"  If  you  must  have  a  weapon,"  he  said,  "  upon  such  a 
peaceful  occasion,  why  did  you  not  use  the  short  poniard 
sent  from  Edinburgh  on  purpose  ?" 

The  boy  vindicated  himself  by  saying  it  was  lost. 

"  You  put  it  out  of  the  way  yourself,  I  suppose," 
said  his  father,  "  out  of  ambition  to  wear  that  prepos- 
terous thing,  which  might  have  served  Sir  William 
Wallace — But  never  mind,  get  to  horse  now,  and  take 
care  of  your  sister." 

The  boy  did  so,  and  was  placed  in  the  centre  of  the 
gallaut  train.  At  the  time  he  was  too  full  of  his  own 
appearance,  his  sword,  his  laced  cloak,  his  feathered  hat, 
and  his  managed  horse,  to  pay  much  regard  to  anything 
else;  but  he  afterwards  remembered  to  the  hour  of  his 
death,  that  when  the  hand  of  his  sister,  by  which  she 
supported  herself  on  the  pillion  behind  him,  touched  his 
own,  it  felt  as  wet  and  cold  as  sepulchral  marble. 

Glancing  wide  over  hill  and  dale,  the  fair  bridal  pro- 
cession at  last  reached  the  parish  church,  which  they 


152  BRIDAL  AND  DEATH  OF  LUCY  ASHTON. 

nearly  filled ;  for,  besides  domestics,  above  a  hundred 
gentlemen  and  ladies  were  present  upon  the  occasion. 
The  marriage  ceremony  was  performed  according  to  the 
rites  of  the  Presbyterian  persuasion,  to  which  Bucklaw 
of  late  had  judged  it  proper  to  conform. 

The  splendor  of  the  bridal  retinue — the  gay  dresses 
— the  spirited  horses — the  blithesome  appearance  of  the 
handsome  women  and  gallant  gentlemen  assembled 
upon  the  occasion,  had  the  usual  effect  upon  the  minds 
of  the  populace.  The  repeated  shouts  of  "Ashton  and 
Bucklaw  for  ever  !" — the  discharge  of  pistols,  guns,  and 
musketoons,  to  give  what  was  called  the  bridal  shot, 
evinced  the  interest  the  people  took  in  the  occasion  of 
the  cavalcade,  as  they  accompanied  it  upon  their  return 
to  the  castle. 

Thus  accompanied  with  the  attendance  both  of  rich 
and  poor,  Lucy  returned  to  her  father's  house.  Bucklaw 
used  his  privilege  of  riding  next  to  the  bride,  but,  new 
to  such  a  situation,  rather  endeavored  to  attract  attention 
by  the  display  of  his  person  and  horsemanship,  than  by 
any  attempt  to  address  her  in  private.  They  reached 
the  castle  in  safety,  amid  a  thousand  joyous  acclama- 
tions. 

It  is  well  known,  that  the  weddings  of  ancient  days 
were  celebrated  with  a  festive  publicity  rejected  by  the 
delicacy  of  modern  times.  The  marriage-guests,  on  the 
present  occasion,  were  regaled  with  a  banquet  of  un- 
bounded profusion,  the  relics  of  which,  after  the  domes- 
tics had  feasted  in  their  turn,  were  distributed  among 
the  shouting  crowd,  with  as  many  barrels  of  ale  as  made 
the  hilarity  without  correspond  to  that  within  the  castle. 
The  gentlemen,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  times, 


BRIDAL  AND  DEATH  OF  LUCY  ASIITON.  153 

indulged,  for  the  most  part,  in  deep  draughts  of  the  rieh- 
est  wines,  while  the  ladies,  prepared  for  the  ball  which 
always  closed  a  bridal  entertainment,  impatiently  ex- 
pected their  arrival  in  the  state  gallery.  At  length  the 
social  party  broke  up  at  a  late  hour,  and  the  gentlemen 
crowded  into  the  saloon,  where,  enlivened  by  wine  and 
the  joyful  occasion,  they  laid  aside  their  swords,  and 
handed  their  impatient  partners  to  the  floor.  The  music 
already  rung  from  the  gallery,  along  the  fretted  roof  of 
the  ancient  state  apartment.  According  to  strict  etiquette, 
the  bride  ought  to  have  opened  the  ball,  but  Lady  Ash- 
ton,  making  an  apology  on  account  of  her  daughter's 
health,  offered  her  own  hand  to  Bucklaw  as  a  substitute 
for  her  daughter's. 

But  as  Lady  Ashton  raised  her  head  gracefully,  ex- 
pecting the  strain  at  which  she  was  to  begin  the  dance, 
she  was  so  much  struck  by  an  unexpected  alteration  in 
the  ornaments  of  the  apartment,  that  she  was  surprised 
into  an  exclamation, — "  Who  has  dared  to  change  the 
pictures  ?" 

All  looked  up,  and  those  who  knew  the  usual  state  of 
the  apartment,  observed,  with  surprise,  that  the  picture 
of  Sir  William  Ashton's  father  was  removed  from  its 
place,  and  in  its  stead  that  of  old  Sir  jMalise  Ravens- 
wood  seemed  to  frown  wrath  and  vengeance  upon  the 
party  assembled  below.  The  exchange  must  have  been 
made  while  the  apartments  were  empty,  but  had  not 
been  observed  until  the  torches  and  lights  in  the  sconces 
were  kindled  for  the  ball.  The  haughty  and  heated 
spirits  of  the  gentlemen  led  them  to  demand  an  im- 
mediate inquiry  into  the  cause  of  what  they  deemed  an 
affront  to  their  host  and  to  themselves  ;  but  Lady  Ash- 

VOL.  II. 1  1 


154  BRIDAL  AND  DEATH  OF  LUCY  ASHTON. 

ton,  recovering  herself,  passed  it  over  as  tlie  freak  of  a 
crazy  wench  who  was  maintained  about  the  castle,  and 
whose  susceptible  imagination  had  been  observed  to  be 
much  affected  by  the  stories  concerning  "  the  former 
family,"  so  Lady  Ashton  named  the  Ravenswoods, 
The  obnoxious  picture  was  immediately  removed,  and 
the  ball  was  opened  by  Lady  Ashton,  with  a  grace  and 
dignity  which  supplied  the  charms  of  youth,  and  almost 
verified  the  extravagant  encomiums  of  the  elder  part  of 
the  company,  who  extolled  her  performance  as  far  ex- 
ceeding the  dancing  of  the  rising  generation. 

When  Lady  Ashton  sat  down,  she  was  not  surprised 
to  find  that  her  daughter  had  left  the  apartment,  and  she 
herself  followed,  eager  to  obviate  any  impression  which 
might  have  been  made  upon  her  nerves  by  an  incident 
so  likely  to  affect  them  as  the  mysterious  transposition 
of  the  portraits.  Apparently  she  found  her  apprehen- 
sions groundless,  for  she  returned  in  about  an  hour,  and 
whispered  the  bridegroom,  who  extricated  himself  from 
the  dancers,  and  vanished  from  the  apartment.  The 
instruments  now  played  their  loudest  strains — the  dan- 
cers pursued  their  exercise  with  all  the  enthusiasm  in- 
spired by  youth,  mirth,  and  high  spirits,  when  a  cry 
was  heard  so  shrill  and  piercing,  as  at  once  to  arrest  the 
dance  and  the  music.  All  stood  motionless  ;  but  when 
the  yell  was  again  repeated.  Colonel  Ashton  snatched  a 
torch  from  the  sconce,  and  demanding  the  key  of  the 
bridal-chamber  from  Henry,  to  whom,  as  bride's-man, 
it  had  been  intrusted,  rushed  thither,  followed  by  Sir 
William  and  Lady  Ashton,  and  one  or  two  others,  near 
relations  of  the  family.  The  bridal  guests  waited  their 
return  in  stupefied  amazement. 


BRIDAL  AND  DEATH  OF  LUCY  ASHTON.  I  155 

Arrived  at  the  door  of  the  apartment,  Colonel]Ashton 
knocked  and  called,  but  received  no  answer  except 
stifled  groans.  He  hesitated  no  longer  to  open  the  door 
of  the  apartment,  in  which  he  found  opposition  from 
something  which  lay  against  it.  When  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  opening  it,  the  body  of  the  bridegroom  was 
found  lying  on  the  threshold  of  the  bridal  chamber,  and 
all  around  was  flooded  with  blood.  A  cry  of  surprise 
and  horror  was  raised  by  all  present;  and  the  company, 
excited  by  this  new  alarm,  began  to  rush  tumultuoiisly 
towards  the  sleeping  apartment.  Colonel  Ashton  first 
whispering  to  his  mother, — "  Search  for  her — she  has 
murdered  him!"  drew  his  sword,  planted  himself  in 
the  passage,  and  declared  he  would  sutfer  no  man  to 
pass  excepting  the  clergyman,  and  a  medical  person 
present.  By  their  assistance,  Bucklaw,  who  still 
breathed,  was  raised  from  the  ground,  and  transported 
to  another  apartment,  where  his  friends,  full  of  sus- 
picion and  murmuring,  assembled  round  him  to  learn 
the  opinion  of  the  surgeon. 

In  the  meanwhile.  Lady  Ashton,  her  husband,  and 
their  assistants,  in  vain  sought  Lucy  in  the  bridal  bed 
and  in  the  chamber.  There  was  no  private  passage 
from  the  room,  and  they  began  to  think  that  she  must 
have  thrown  herself  from  the  window,  when  one  of  the 
company,  holding  his  torch  lower  than  the  rest,  dis- 
covered something  white  in  the  corner  of  the  great  old- 
fashioned  chimney  of^the  apartment.  Here  they  found 
the  unfortunate  girl,  seated  or  rather  couched  like  a  hare 
upon  its  form — her  head-gear  disheveled ;  her  night- 
clothes  lorn  and  dabbled  with  blood, — her  eyes  glazed, 
and  her  features  convulsed  into   a  wild  paroxysm  of 


156  BRIDAL  AND  DEATH  OF  LUCY  ASIITON. 

insanity.  When  she  saw  herself  discovered,  she  gib- 
bered, made  mouths,  and  pointed  at  them  with  her 
bloody  fingers,  with  the  frantic  gestures  of  an  exulting 
demoniac. 

Female  assistance  was  now  hastily  summoned ;  the 
unhappy  bride  was  overpowered,  not  without  the  use 
of  some  force.  As  they  carried  her  over  the  threshold, 
she  looked  down,  and  uttered  the  only  articulate  words 
that  she  had  yet  spoken,  saying,  with  a  sort  of  grin- 
ning exultation, — "  So,  you  have  ta'en  up  your  bonny 
bridegroom?"  She  was  by  the  shuddering  assistants 
conveyed  to  another  and  more  retired  apartment,  where 
she  was  secured  as  her  situation  required,  and  closely 
watched.  The  unutterable  agony  of  the  parents — the 
horror  and  confusion  of  all  who  were  in  the  castle — the 
fury  of  contending  passions  between  the  friends  of  the 
different  parties,  passions  augmented  by  previous  in- 
temperance, surpass  description. 

All  night  she  remained  delirious.  On  the  morning, 
she  fell  into  a  state  of  absolute  insensibility.  The  next 
evening,  the  physicians  said  would  be  the  crisis  of  her 
malady.  It  proved  so ;  for  altliough  she  awoke  from 
her  trance  with  some  appearance  of  calmness,  and  suf- 
fered her  night  clothes  to  be  changed,  or  put  in  order, 
yet  so  soon  as  she  put  her  hand  to  her  neck,  as  if  to 
search  for  the  fatal  blue  ribbon,  a  tide  of  recollections 
seemed  to  rush  upon  her,  which  her  mind  and  body 
were  alike  incapable  of  bearing.  Convulsion  followed 
convulsion,  till  they  closed  in  death,  without  her  being 
able  to  utter  a  word  explanatory  of  the  fatal  scene. 

The  provincial  judge  of  the  district  arrived  the  day 
after  the  young  lady  had  expired,  and  executed,  though 


BRIDAL  AND  DEATH  OF  LUCY  ASIITON.  157 

•with  all  possible  delicacy  to  the  afflicted  family,  the 
painful  duty  of  inquiring  into  this  fatal  transaction.  But 
there  occurred  nothing  to  explain  the  general  hypothesis, 
that  the  bride,  in  a  sudden  fit  of  insanity,  had  stabbed 
the  bridegroom  at  the  threshold  of  the  apartment.  The 
fatal  weapon  was  found  in  tlie  chamber,  smeared  with 
blood.  It  was  the  same  poniard  which  Henry  should 
have  worn  on  the  wedding-day,  and  which  his  unhappy 
sister  had  probably  contrived  to  secrete  on  the  preced- 
ing evening,  when  it  had  been  shown  to  her  among 
other  articles  of  preparation  for  the  wedding. 

Bucklaw  afterwards  went  abroad,  and  never  returned 
to  Scotland ;  nor  was  he  known  ever  to  hint  at  the  cir- 
cumstances attending  his  fatal  marriage.  By  many 
readers  this  may  be  deemed  overstrained,  romantic,  and 
composed  by  the  wild  imagination  of  an  author,  desir- 
ous of  gratifying  the  popular  appetite  for  the  horrible; 
but  those  who  are  read  in  the  private  family  history  of 
Scotland  during  the  period  in  which  the  scene  is  laid, 
will  readily  discover,  through  the  disguise  of  borrowed 
names  and  added  incidents,  the  leading  particulars  of 

AN  OAVER  TRUE  TALE.* 

*  Sir  Walter  Scott  mentions  in  his  introduction  to  the  Bride  of 
Lammermoor,  that  the  prototype  of  Lucy  Ashton  was  Miss  Janet 
Dalrymple,  daughter  of  Lord  Stair,  who  had  engaged  herself  to 
Lord  Rutherford.  Lady  Stair  insisted  on  her  daughter  marrying 
David  Dunbar  of  Baldoon,  when  the  catastrophe  related  above  took 
place. 


158  JEANIE  AND  EFFIE  DEANS MEETING  OF 


JEANIE  AND  EFFIE  DEANS— 

MEETING    OF    THE    SISTERS    BEFORE    EFFIe's    TRIAL. 

Shame,  fear,  and  grief,  had  contended  for  mastery 
in  the  poor  prisoner's  bosom  during  the  whole  morn- 
ing, while  she  had  looked  forward  to  this  meeting  ;  but 
when  the  door  opened,  all  gave  way  to  a  confused  and 
strange  feeling  that  had  a  tinge  of  joy  in  it,  as,  throw- 
ing herself  on  her  sister's  neck,  she  ejaculated,  "My 
dear  Jeanie  ! — my  dear  Jeanie !  it  's  lang  since  I  hae 
seen  ye."  Jeanie  returned  the  embrace  with  an  earn- 
estness that  partook  almost  of  rapture,  but  it  was  only 
a  flitting  emotion,  like  a  sunbeam  unexpectedly  pene- 
trating betwixt  the  clouds  of  a  tempest,  and  obscured 
almost  as  soon  as  visible.  The  sisters  walked  together 
to  the  side  of  the  pallet  bed,  and  sate  down  side  by 
side,  took  hold  of  each  other's  hands,  and  looked  each 
other  in  the  face,  but  without  speaking  a  word.  In  this 
posture  they  remained  for  a  minute,  while  the  gleam  of 
joy  gradually  faded  from  their  features,  and  gave  way 
to  the  most  intense  expression,  first  of  melancholy,  and 
then  of  agony,  till,  throwing  themselves  again  into  each 
other's  arms,  they,  to  use  the  language  of  Scripture, 
lifted  up  their  voices  and  wept  bitterly. 

Even  the  hard-hearted  turnkey,  who  had  spent  his 
life  in  scenes  calculated  to  stifle  both  conscience  and 
feeling,  could  not  witness  this  scene  without  a  touch  of 
human  sympathy.     It  was  shown  in  a  trifling  action, 


THE  SISTERS  BEFORE  EFFIe's  TRIAL.  159 

but  which  had  more  delicacy  in  it  than  seemed  to  belong 
to  Ratcliffe's  character  and  station.  The  unglazed  win- 
dow of  the  miserable  chamber  was  open,  and  the  beams 
of  a  bright  sun  fell  right  upon  the  bed  where  the  suffer- 
ers were  seated.  With  a  gentleness  that  had  something 
of  reverence  in  it,  Ratcliffe  partly  closed  the  shutter, 
and  seemed  thus  to  throw  a  veil  over  a  scene  so 
sorrowful. 

"  Ye  are  ill,  Effie,"  were  the  first  words  Jeanie  could 
utter ;  "ye  are  very  ill." 

"  O,  what  wad  1  gie  to  be  ten  times  waur,  Jeanie !" 
was  the  reply — "  what  wad  I  gie  to  be  cauld  dead  afore 
the  ten  o'clock  bell  the  morn  !  And  our  father — but  I 
am  his  bairn  nae  langer  now — O,  I  hae  nae  friend  left 
in  the  warld  ! — O,  that  I  were  lying  dead  at  my  mother's 
side,  in  Newbattle  kirkyard  !" 

"  O  Effie,"  said  her  elder  sister,  "  how  could  you 
conceal  your  situation  from  me  ?  0  woman,  had  I 
deserved  this  at  your  hand? — had  ye  spoke  but  ae 
word — sorry  we  might  hae  been,  and  shamed  we  might 
hae  been,  but  this  awfu'  dispensation  had  never  come 


ower  us." 


"And  what  gude  wad  that  hae  dune  ?"  answered  the 
prisoner.  "  Na,  na,  Jeanie,  a'  was  ower  when  ance  I 
forgot  what  I  promised  when  I  faulded  down  the  leaf  of 
my  Bible.  See,"  she  said,  producing  the  sacred  volume, 
"  the  book  opens  aye  at  the  place  o'  itsell.  O  see, 
Jeanie,  what  a  fearfu'  Scripture!" 

Jeanie  took  her  sister's  Bible,  and  found  that  the  fatal 
mark  was  made  at  this  impressive  text  in  the  book  of 
Job: — "He  hath  stripped  me  of  my  glory,  and  taken 
the  crown  from  my  head.     He  hath  destroyed  me  on 


160  JEANIE  AND  EFFIE  DEANS MEETING  OF 

every  side,  and  I  am  gone.     And  mine  hope  hath  he 
removed  like  a  tree." 

"Isna  that  ower  true  a  doctrine?"  said  the  prisoner 
— "Isna  my  crown,  my  honor  removed?  And  what 
am  I  but  a  poor  wasted,  wan-thriven  tree,  dug  up  by  the 
roots,  and  flung  out  to  waste  in  the  highway,  that  man 
and  beast  may  tread  it  under  foot?  I  thought  o'  the 
bonny  bit  thorn  that  our  father  rooted  out  o'  the  yard 
last  May,  when  it  had  a'  the  flush  o'  blossoms  on  it ; 
and  then  it  lay  in  the  court  till  the  beasts  had  trod  them 
a'  to  pieces  wi'  their  feet.  I  little  thought,  when  I  was 
wae  for  the  bit  silly  green  bush  and  its  flowers,  that  I 
was  to  gang  the  same  gate  mysell." 

"  O,  if  ye  had  spoken  ae  word,"  again  sobbed  Jeanie, 
— "  if  I  were  free  to  swear  that  ye  had  said  but  ae  word 
of  how  it  stude  wi'  ye,  they  couldna  hae  touched  your 
life  this  day." 

"Could  they  na?"  said  Eflie,  with  something  like 
awakened  interest — for  life  is  dear  even  to  those  who 
feel  it  is  a  burden. 

"  0,  if  it  stude  wi'  me  to  save  ye  w'  risk  of  my  life !" 
said  Jeanie. 

"Ay,  lass,"  said  her  sister,  "  that's  lightly  said,  but  no 
sae  lightly  credited,  frae  ane  that  winna  ware  a  word  for 
me ;  and  if  it  be  a  wrang  word,  ye'll  hae  time  eneugh 
to  repent  o't." 

"  But  that  word  is  a  grievous  sin,  and  it's  a  deeper 
offence  when  it's  a  sin  wilfully  and  presumptuously  com- 
mitted." 

"  Weel,  weel,  Jeanie,"  said  Eflie,  "  I  mind  a'  about 
the  sins  o'  presumption  in  the  questions — we'll  speak 
nae  mair  about  this  matter,  and  ye  may  save  your  breath 


THE  SISTERS  BEFORE  EFFIe's  TRIAL.  161 

to  say  your  carritch  ;  and  for  me,  I'll  soon  hae  nae  breath 
to  waste  on  ony  body." 

"And  are  we  to  part  in  tliis  way,"  said  Jeanie,  "and 
you  in  sic  deadly  peril?  O,  EfRe,  look  but  up,  and  say 
what  ye  wad  hae  me  to  do,  and  I  could  find  in  my  heart 
amaist  to  say  that  I  wad  do  't." 

"No,  Jeanie,"  replied  her  sister,  after  an  effort,  "I 
am  better  minded  now.  At  my  best,  I  was  never  half 
sae  gude  as  ye  were,  and  what  for  suld  you  begin  to 
mak  yoursell  waur  to  save  me,  now  that  I  am  no  worth 
saving?  God  knows,  that  in  my  sober  mind,  I  wadna 
wuss  ony  living  creature  to  do  a  wrang  thing  to  save  my 
life.  I  might  have  fled  frae  this  tolbooth  on  that  awfu' 
night  wi'  ane  wad  hae  carried  me  through  the  warld, 
and  friended  me,  and  fended  for  me.  But  I  said  to 
them,  let  life  gang  when  gude  fame  is  gane  before  it. 
But  this  lang  imprisonment  has  broken  my  spirit,  and 
I  am  whiles  sair  left  to  mysell,  and  then  I  wad  gie  the 
Indian  mines  of  gold  and  diamonds,  just  for  life  and 
breath." 

Jeanie  Deans  remained  with  her  sister  for  two  hours, 
during  which  she  endeavored,  if  possible,  to  extrac* 
something  from  her  that  might  be  serviceable  in  her  ex- 
culpation. But  she  had  nothing  to  say  beyond  what 
she  had  declared  on  her  first  examination.  "They 
wadna  believe  her,"  she  said,  "  and  she  had  naething 
mair  to  tell  them." 

At  length  Ratcliffe,  though  reluctantly,  informed  the 
sisters  that  there  was  a  necessity  that  they  should  part. 

Reluctantly,  therefore,  and  slowly,  after  many  a  tear, 
and  many  an  embrace,  Jeanie  retired  from  the  apartment, 
and  heard  its  jarring  bolts  turned  upon  the  dear  being 


162  TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS. 

from  whom  she  was  separated.  Somewhat  familiarized 
now  even  with  her  rude  conductor,  she  offered  him  a 
small  present  in  money,  with  a  request  he  would  do 
what  he  could  for  her  sister's  accommodation.  To  her 
surprise,  Ratclifl'e  declined  tlie  fee. 


TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS. 

After  spending  the  greater  part  of  the  morning  in  his 
devotions  (for  his  benevolent  neighbors  had  kindly  in- 
sisted upon  discharging  his  task  of  ordinary  labor), 
David  Deans  entered  the  apartment  when  breakfast 
meal  was  prepared.  His  eyes  were  involuntarily  cast 
down,  for  he  was  afraid  to  look  at  Jeanie,  uncertain  as 
he  was  whether  she  might  feel  herself  at  liberty,  with 
a  good  conscience,  to  attend  the  Court  of  Justiciary  that 
(lay,  to  give  the  evidence  which  he  understood  that  she 
possessed,  in  order  to  her  sister's  exculpation.  At 
length,  after  a  minute  of  apprehensive  hesitation,  he 
looked  at  her  dress  to  discover  whether  it  seemed  to  be 
in  her  contemplation  to  go  abroad  that  morning.  Her 
apparel  was  neat  and  plain,  but  such  as  conveyed  no 
exact  intimation  of  her  intentions  to  go  abroad.  She 
had  exchanged  her  usual  garb  for  morning  labor,  for 
one  something  inferior  to  that  with  which,  as  her  best, 
she  was  wont  to  dress  herself  for  church,  or  any  more 
rare  occasion  of  going  into  society.  Her  sense  taught 
her,  that  it  was  respectful  to  be  decent  in  her  apparel 


TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS.  163 

on  such  an  occasion,  while  her  feelings  induced  her  to 
lay  aside  the  use  of  the  very  few  and  simple  personal 
ornaments,  which,  on  other  occasions,  she  permitted 
herself  to  wear. 

The  preparations  for  their  humble  meal  were  that 
morning  made  in  vain.  The  father  and  daughter  sat, 
each  assuming  the  appearance  of  eating,  when  the 
other's  eyes  were  turned  to  them,  and  desisting  from 
the  effort  with  disgust,  when  the  affectionate  imposture 
seemed  no  longer  necessary. 

At  leno-th  these  moments  of  constraint  were  removed. 
The  sound  of  St.  Giles's  heavy  toll  announced  the  hour 
previous  to  the  commencement  of  the  trial ;  Jeanie  arose, 
and,  with  a  degree  of  composure  for  which  she  herself 
could   not   account,  assumed   her   plaid,  and   made  her 
other  preparations  for  a  distant  walking.    It  was  a  strange 
contrast  between  the  firmness  of  her  demeanor,  and  the 
vacillation  and  cruel  uncertainty  of  purpose  indicated 
in  all  her  father's  motions  ;  and  one  unacquainted  with 
both  could  scarcely  have  supposed  that  the  former  was, 
in  her  ordinary  habits  of  life,  a  docile,  quiet,  gentle,  and 
even  timid  country-maiden,  while  her  father,  with  a  mind 
naturally  proud  and  strong,  and  supported  by  religious 
opinions,  of  a   stern,  stoical,  and  unyielding  character, 
had  in  his  time  undergone  and  willistood  the  most  se- 
vere hardships,  and  the  most  imminent  peril,  without 
depression  of  spirit,  or  subjugation  of  his  constancy. 
The  secret  of  this  difference  was,  that  Jeanie's  mind 
had  already  anticipated    the  line  of  conduct  which  she 
must  adopt,  with  all  its  natural   and   necessary  conse- 
quences; while  her  father,  ignorant  of  every  other  cir- 
cumstance, tormented  himself  with  imagining  what  the 


164  TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS. 

one  sister  might  say  or  swear,  or  what  effect  her  testi- 
mony might  have  upon  the  awful  event  of  the  trial. 

He  watched  his  daughter  with  a  faltering  and  inde- 
cisive look,  until  she  looked  back  upon  him,  with  a 
look  of  unutterable  anguish,  as  she  was  about  to  leave 
the  apartment. 

"  My  dear  lassie,"  said  he,  "  I  will" — His  action, 
hastily  and  confusedly  searching  for  his  worsted  mit- 
tens* and  staff,  showed  his  purpose  of  accompanying 
her,  though  his  tongue  failed  distinctly  to  announce  it. 

"  Father,"  said  Jeanie,  replying  rather  to  his  action 
than  his  words,  "  ye  had  better  not." 

"  In  the  strength  of  my  God,"  answered  Deans,  as- 
suming firmness,  "  I  will  go  forth." 

And  taking  his  daughter's  arm  under  his,  he  began 
to  walk  from  the  door  with  a  step  so  hasty,  that  she 
was  almost  unable  to  keep  up  with  him.  A  trifling  cir- 
cumstance, but  which  marked  the  perturbed  state  of  his 
mind,  checked  his  course. — "  Your  bonnet,  father  ?" 
said  Jeanie,  who  observed  he  had  come  out  with 
his  gray  hairs  uncovered.  He  turned  back  with  a 
slight  blush  on  his  cheek,  being  ashamed  to  have  been 
detected  in  an  omission  which  indicated  so  much  men- 
tal confusion,  assumed  his  large  blue  Scottish  bonnet, 
and  with  a  step  slower,  but  more  composed,  as  if  the 
circumstance  had  obliged  him  to  summon  up  his  reso- 
lution, and  collect  his  scattered  ideas,  again  placed  his 
daughter's  arm  under  his,  and  resumed  the  way  to  Edin- 
burgh. 

The  courts  of  justice  were  then,  and  are  still,  held  in 

*  A  kind  of  worsted  gloves  used  by  the  lower  orders.. 


TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS.  165 

what  is  called  the  Parliament  Close,  or,  according  to 
modern  phrase,  the  Parliament  Square,  and  occupied 
the  buildings  intended  for  the  accommodation  of  the 
Scottish  estates. 

When  Deans  and  his  daughter  presented  themselves 
in  the  Close,  and  endeavored  to  make  their  way  for- 
ward to  the  door  of  the  Court-house,  they  became  in- 
volved in  the  mob,  and  subject,  of  course,  to  their  in- 
solence. As  Deans  repelled  with  some  force  the  rude 
pushes  which  he  received  on  all  sides,  his  figure  and 
antiquated  dress  caught  the  attention  of  the  rabble,  who 
often  show  an  intuitive  sharpness  in  ascribing  the  proper 
character  from  external  appearance. — 

"Ye  're  M'elcome,  Whigs, 
Frae  Bolhwell  biiggs," 

sung  one  fellow  (for  the  mob  of  Edinburgh  were  at  that 
time  jacobitically  disposed,  probably  because  that  was 
the  line  of  sentiment  most  diametrically  opposite  to 
existing  authority). 

A  tattered  cadie,  or  errand-porter,  whom  David  Deans 
had  jostled  in  his  attempt  to  extricate  himself  from 
the  vicinity  of  these  scorners,  exclaimed  in  a  strong 
north-country  tone,  "  Ta  deil  ding  out  her  Camero- 
nian  een— what  gies  her  titles  to  dunch  gentlemans 
about?" 

"Whist;  shame's  in  ye,  sirs,"  said  the  voice  of  a 
man  very  loudly,  which,  as  quickly  sinking,  said  in  a 
low,  but  distinct  tone,  "  It's  lier  father  and  sister." 

All  fell  back  to  make  way  for  the  sufferers  ;  and  all, 
even  the  very  rudest  and  most  profligate,  were  s'truck 
with  shame  and  silence. 


166  TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS. 

The  bench  was  prepared  for  the  arrival  of  the  judges. 
The  jurors  Avere  in  attendance.  The  crown-counsel, 
employed  in  looking  over  iheir  briefs  and  notes  of 
evidence,  looked  grave,  and  whispered  with  each  other. 
They  occupied  one  side  of  a  large  table  placed  beneath 
the  bench ;  on  the  other  sat  the  advocates,  whom  the 
humanity  of  the  Scottish  law  (in  this  particular  more 
liberal  than  that  of  the  sister  country)  not  only  permits, 
but  enjoins,  to  appear  and  assist  with  their  advice  and 
skill  all  persons  under  trial.  Mr.  Nichil  Novit  was 
seen  actively  instructing  the  counsel  for  the  panel  (so 
the  prisoner  is  called  in  Scottish  law-phraseology),  busy, 
bustling  and  important.  When  they  entered  the  Court- 
room, Deans  asked  the  Laird,  in  a  tremulous  whisper, 
"Where  will  she  sit?" 

Dumbiedikes  whispered  Novit,  who  pointed  to  a  va- 
cant space  at  the  bar,  fronting  the  judges,  and  was  about 
to  conduct  Deans  towards  it. 

"No!"  he  said;  "I  cannot  sit  by  her — I  cannot 
own  her — not  as  yet,  at  least — I  will  keep  out  of  her 
sight,  and  turn  mine  own  eyes  elsewhere — better  for 
us  baith." 

Novit  offered  to  conduct  Jeanie  to  the  apartment, 
where,  according  to  the  scrupulous  practice  of  the  Scot- 
tisli  Court,  the  witnesses  remain  in  readiness  to  be  called 
into  court  to  give  evidence;  and  separated,  at  the  same 
time,  from  all  who  might  influence  their  testimony,  or 
give  them  information  concerning  that  which  was  pas- 
sing upon  the  trial. 

"  Is  this  necessary  ?"  said  Jeanie,  still  reluctant  to  quit 
her  father's  hand. 


TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS.  167 

"A  matter  of  absolute  needcessity;  wha  ever  heard 
of  witnesses  no  being  enclosed?" 

"It  is  really  a  matter  of  necessity,"  said  the  younger 
counselor,  retained  for  her  sister  ;  and  Jeanie  reluc- 
tantly followed  the  macer  of  the  court  to  the  place  ap- 
pointed. 

The  five  Lords  of  Justiciary,  in  their  long  robes  of 
scarlet,  faced  with  white,  and  preceded  by  their  mace- 
bearer,  entered  with  the  usual  formalities,  and  took  their 
places  upon  the  bench  of  judgment. 

The  audience  rose  to  receive  them  ;  and  the  bustle 
occasioned  by  their  entrance  was  hardly  composed, 
when  a  great  noise  and  confusion  of  persons  struggling, 
and  forcibly  endeavoring  to  enter  at  the  doors  of  the 
Court-room  and  of  the  galleries,  announced  that  the 
prisoner  was  about  to  be  placed  at  the  bar.  By  the 
authority  of  the  Court,  and  the  exertions  of  its  officers, 
the  tumult  among  the  spectators  was  at  length  appeased, 
and  the  unhappy  girl  brought  forward,  and  placed  be- 
twixt two  sentinels  with  drawn  bayonets,  as  a  prisoner 
at  the  bar,  where  she  was  to  abide  her  deliverance  for 
good  or  evil,  according  to  the  issue  of  her  trial. 

"Euphemia  Deans,"  said  the  presiding  Judge,  in  an 
accent  in  which  pity  was  blended  with  dignity,  "  stand 
up,  and  listen  to  the  criminal  indictment  now  to  be 
preferred  against  you." 

The  unhappy  girl,  who  had  been  stupefied  by  the 
confusion  through  which  the  guards  had  forced  a  pas- 
sage, cast  a  bewildered  look  on  the  multitude  of  faces 
around  her,. which  seemed  to  tapestry,  as  it  were,  the 
walls,  in  one  broad  slope  from  the  ceiling  to  the  floor, 
with  human  countenances,  and  instinctively  obeyed  a 


168  TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS. 

command,  which  rung  in  her  ears  like  the  trumpet  of 
the  judgment-day. 

"Put  back  your  hair,  Effie,"  said  one  of  the  macers. 
For  her  beautiful  and  abundant  tresses  of  long  fair  hair, 
which,  according  to  the  costume  of  the  country,  un- 
married women  were  not  allowed  to   cover  with   any 
sort  of  cap,  and  which,  alas  !  Effie  dared  no  longer  con- 
fine with  the  snood  or  riband,  which  implied  purity  of 
maiden-fame,  now  hung  unbound  and    disheveled  over 
her  face,  and  almost  concealed  her  features.     On  receiv- 
ing this  hint  from  the  attendant,  the  unfortunate  young 
woman,  with  a   hasty,  trembling,  and  apparently  me- 
chanical  compliance,  shaded  back   from   her  face  her 
luxuriant  locks,  and  showed  to  the  whole  court,  except- 
ing one  individual,  a  countenance,  which,  though  pale 
and  emaciated,  M'as    so   lovely  amid   its  agony,  that  it 
called    forth   a  universal   murmur   of  compassion  and 
sympathy.     Apparently  the  expressive  sound  of  human 
feeling  recalled  the  poor  girl  from   the  stupor  of  fear, 
which  predominated  at  first  over  every  other  sensation, 
and  awakened  her  to  the  no  less  painful  sense  of  shame 
and  exposure  attached   to  her  present  situation.     Her 
eye,  which   had   at   first  glanced   wildly    around,  was 
turned  on   the  ground  ;    her   cheek,  at   first  so   deadly 
pale,   began   gradually  to  be   overspread   with   a   faint 
blush,  which   increased  so   fast,  that,  when  in   agony 
of  shame  she  strove  to  conceal  her  face,  her  temples, 
her  brow,  her  neck,  and  all   that   her   slender  fingers 
,     and  small  palms  could  not  cover,  became  of  the  deepest 
crimson. 

All  marked  and  were  moved  by  these  changes,  ex- 
cepting one.    It  was  old  Deans,  who,  motionless  in  his 


TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS.  169 

seat,  and  concealed,  by  the  corner  of  the  bench,  from 
seeing  or  being  seen,  did  nevertheless  keep  his  eyes 
firmly  fixed  on  the  ground,  as  if  determined  that,  by  no 
possibility  whatever,  would  he  be  an  ocular  witness  of 
the  shame  of  his  house. 

"  Ichabod !"  he  said  to  himself — "  Ichabod !  my  glory 
is  departed'." 

While  these  reflections  were  passing  through  his  mind, 
the  indictment  which  set  forth  in  technical  form  the 
crime  of  which  the  panel  stood  accused,  was  read  as 
usual,  and  the  prisoner  was  asked  if  she  was  guilty,  or 
Not  guilty. 

"Not  guilty  of  my  poor  bairn's  death,"  said  Effie 
Deans,  in  an  accent  corresponding  in  plaintive  softness 
of  tone  to  the  beauty  of  her  features,  and  which  was  not 
heard  by  the  audience  without  emotion. 

The  presiding  Judge  next  directed  the  counsel  to  plead 
to  the  relevancy ;  that  is,  to  state  on  either  part  the  ar- 
guments in  point  of  law,  and  evidence  in  point  of  fact, 
against  and  in  favor  of  the  criminal :  after  which  it  is 
the  form  of  the  Court  to  pronounce  a  preliminary  judg- 
ment, sending  the  cause  to  the  cognizance  of  the  jury 
or  assize. 

The  counsel  for  the  crown  briefly  stated  the  frequen- 
cy of  the  crime  of  infanticide,  which  had  given  rise  to 
the  special  statute  under  which  the  panel  stood  indicted. 
He  mentioned  the  various  instances,  many  of  them 
marked  with  circumstances  of  atrocity,  which  had  at 
length  induced  the  King's  Advocate,  though  with  great 
reluctance,  to  make  the  experiment,  whether,  by  strictly 
enforcing  the  Act  of  Parliament  which  had  been  made 
to  prevent  such  enormities,  their  occurrence  might  be 

VOL.  II. — 13 


170  TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS. 

prevented.  "He  expected,"  he  said,  "  to  be  able  to  es- 
tablish by  witnesses,  as  well  as  by  the  declaration  of  the 
panel  herself,  that  she  was  in  the  state  described  by  the 
statute.  It  was  not,  however,  necessary  for  him  to  bring 
positive  proof  that  the  panel  was  accessory  to  the  mur- 
der, nay,  nor  even  to  prove  that  the  child  was  murdered 
at  all.  It  was  sufficient  to  support  the  indictment,  that 
it  could  not  be  found." 

The  counsel  for  the  prisoner,  Mr.  Fairbrother,  a  man 
of  considerable  fame  in  his  profession,  did  not  pretend 
directly  to  combat  the  arguments  of  the  King's  Advo- 
cate. But  he  stated,  "  that  when  he  came  to  establish 
his  case  by  proof,  he  trusted  to  make  out  circumstances 
which  would  satisfactorily  elide  the  charge  in  the  libel. 
His  client's  story  was  a  short,  but  most  melancholy  one. 
She  was  bred  up  in  the  strictest  tenets  of  religion  and 
virtue,  the  daughter  of  a  worthy  and  conscientious  per- 
son, who,  in  evil  times,  had  established  a  character  for 
courage  and  religion,  by  becoming  a  suffisrer  for  con- 
science' sake." 

David  Deans  gave  a  convulsive  start  at  hearing  him- 
self thus  mentioned,  and  then  resumed  the  situation,  in 
which,  with  his  face  stooped  against  his  hands,  and 
both  resting  against  the  corner  of  the  elevated  bench  on 
which  the  Judges  sate,  he  had  hitherto  listened  to  the 
procedure  in  the  trial, 

"  Whatever  may  be  our  difference  of  opinion,"  re- 
sumed the  lawyer,  whose  business  it  was  to  carry  his 
whole  audience  with  him,  if  possible,  "concerning  the 
peculiar  tenets  of  these  people,"  (here  Deans  groaned 
deeply),  "  it  is  impossible  to  deny  them  the  praise  of 
sound,  and  even  rigid  morals,  or  the  merit  of  training 


TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS.  171 

up  their  children  in  the  fear  of  God;  and  yet  it  was  the 
daughter  of  such  a  person  whom  a  jury  would  shortly 
be   called  upon,  in  the  absence  of  evidence,  and  upon 
mere  presumptions,  to  convict  of  a  crime,  more  properly 
belonging  to  a  heathen,  or  a  savage,  than  to  a  Christian 
and  civilized  country.    It  was  true,"  he  admitted,  "that 
the  excellent  nurture  and  early  instruction  which  the 
poor  girl  had  received,  had  not  been  sufficient  to  pre- 
serve her  from  ffuilt  and  error.     She  had  fallen  a  sacri- 
fice  to  an  inconsiderate  affection  for  a  young  man  of 
prepossessing   manners,  as  he  had  been  informed,  but 
of  a  very  dangerous  and  desperate  character.     When 
all  hopes  of  a  union,  if  still  practicable,  might,  per- 
haps, have  been  regarded  rather  as  an  addition  to  her 
disgrace, — it  was  then.,  that  I  trust  to  be  able  to  prove 
that  the  prisoner  communicated  and  consulted  with  her 
sister,  a  young  woman  several  years  older  than  herself, 
the  daughter  of  her  father,  if  I  mistake  not,  by  a  former 
marriage,  upon  the  perils  and  distress  of  her  unhappy 
situation." 

"If,  indeed,  you  are  able  to  instruct  that  point,  Mr. 
Fairbrother,"  said  the  presiding  Judge 

"  If  I  am  indeed  able  to  instruct  that  point,  my  Lord,'' 
resumed  Mr.  Fairbrother,  "I  trust  not  only  to  serve  my 
client,  but  to  relieve  your  Lordships  from  that  which  I 
know  you  feel  the  most  painful  duty  of  your  high  office  ; 
and  to  give  all  who  now  hear  me  the  exquisite  pleasure 
of  beiiolding  a  creature  so  young,  so  ingenuous,  and  so 
beautiful,  as  she  that  is  now  at  the  bar  of  your  I^ord- 
ships'  Court,  dismissed  from  thence  in  safety  and  in 
honor." 

This  address  seemed  to  affect  many  of  the  audience, 


173  TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS. 

and  was  followed  by  a  slight  murmur  of  applause. 
Deans,  as  he  heard  his  daughter's  beauty  and  innocent 
appearance  appealed  to,  was  involuntarily  about  to  turn 
his  eyes  towards  her;  but,  recollecting  himself,  he  bent 
them  again  on  the  ground  with  stubborn  resolution. 

It  is  by  no  means  my  intention  to  describe  minutely 
the  forms  of  a  Scottish  criminal  trial,  nor  am  I  sure  that 
I  could  draw  up  an  account  so  intelligible  and  accurate 
as  to  abide  the  criticism  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  long 
robe.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  the  jury  was  impanelled 
and  the  case  proceeded.  The  prisoner  was  again  re- 
quired to  plead  to  the  charge,  and  she  again  replied, 
''  Not  guilty,"  in  the  same  heart  thrilling  tone  as  before. 
The  crown  counsel  then  called  two  or  three  female 
witnesses,  by  whose  testimony  it  was  established,  that 
they  had  taxed  her  with  the  fact,  and  that  her  answers 
had  amounted  to  an  angry  and  petulant  denial  of  what 
they  charged  her  with. 

The  evidence  of  the  Crown  being  concluded,  the 
counsel  for  the  prisoner  began  to  lead  a  proof  in  her 
defence.  The  first  witnesses  were  examined  upon  the 
girl's  character.     All  gave  her  an  excellent  one. 

Mr.  Fairbrother  now  premised,  in  a  few  words,  "  that 
he  meant  to  bring  forward  his  most  important  witness, 
upon  whose  evidence  the  cause  must  in  a  great  measure 
depend.  Macer,  call  into  court,  Jean,  or  Jeanie  Deans, 
daughter  of  David  Deans,  cowfeeder,  at  Saint  Leonard's 
Crags." 

When  he  uttered  these  words,  the  poor  prisoner  in- 
stantly started  up,  and  stretched  herself  half-way  over 
the  bar,  towards  the  side  at  which  lier  sister  was  to 
enter.     And  when,  slowly   following  the  officer,  the 


TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS.  173 

witness  advanced  to  the  foot  of  the  table,  Effie,  with 
the  whole  expression  of  her  countenance  altered,  from 
that  of  confused  shame  and  dismay,  to  an  eager,  implor- 
ing, and  almost  ecstatic  earnestness  of  entreaty,  with 
outstretched  hands,  hair  streaming  back,  eyes  raised 
eagerly  to  her  sister's  face,  and  glistening  through  tears, 
exclaimed,  in  a  tone  which  went  through  the  heart  of 
all  who  heard  her — "  O  Jeanie,  Jeanie,  save  me,  save 
me  !" 

With  a  different  feeling,  yet  equally  appropriated  to 
his  proud  and  self-dependent  character,  old  Deans  drew 
himself  back  still  farther  under  the  cover  of  the  bench  ; 
so  that  when  Jeanie,  as  she  entered  the  court,  cast  a 
timid  glance  towards  the  place  at  which  she  had  left 
him  seated,  his  venerable  figure  was  no  longer  visible. 
He  sate  down  on  the  other  side  of  Dumbiedikes,  wrung 
his  hand  hard,  and  whispered,  "  Ah,  Laird,  this  is  warst 
of  a' — if  I  can  but  win  ovver  this  part — I  feel  my  head 
unco  dizzy ;  but  my  master  is  strong  in  His  servant's 
weakness."  After  a  moment's  mental  prayer,  he  again 
started  up,  as  if  impatient  of  continuing  in  any  one 
posture,  and  gradually  edged  himself  forward  towards 
the  place  he  had  just  quitted. 

Jeanie  in  the  meantime  had  advanced  to  the  bottom 
of  the  table,  when,  unable  to  resist  the  impulse  of  affec- 
tion, she  suddenly  extended  her  hand  to  her  sister.  Effie 
was  just  within  the  distance  that  she  could  seize  it  with 
both  hers,  press  it  to  her  mouth,  cover  it  with  kisses, 
and  bathe  it  in  tears,  with  the  fond  devotion  that  a  Cath- 
olic would  pray  to  a  guardian  saint  descended  for  his 
safety;  while  Jeanie,  hiding  her  own  face  with  her 
otlier  hand,  wept  bitterly.    The  sight  would  have  moved 


174  TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS. 

a  heart  of  stone,  much  more  of  flesh  and  blood.  Many 
of  the  spectators  shed  tears,  and  it  was  some  time  before 
the  presiding  Judge  himself  could  so  far  subdue  his 
emotion,  as  to  request  the  witness  to  compose  herself 
and  the  prisoner  to  forbear  those  marks  of  eager  affec- 
tion, which,  however  natural,  could  not  be  permitted 
at  that  time,  and  in  that  presence. 

The  solemn  oath, — "  the  truth  to  tell,  and  no  truth 
to  conceal,  as  far  as  she  knew  or  should  be  asked," 
was  then  administered  by  the  Judge  "  in  the  name  of 
God,  and  as  the  witness  should  answer  to  God  at  the 
great  day  of  judgment ;"  an  awful  adjuration,  which 
seldom  fails  to  make  impression  even  on  the  most  hard- 
ened characters,  and  to  strike  with  fear  even  the  most 
upright.  Jeanie,  educated  in  deep  and  devout  reve- 
rence for  the  name  and  attributes  of  the  Deity,  was,  by 
the  solemnity  of  a  direct  appeal  to  his  person  and  jus- 
tice, awed,  but  at  the  same  time  elevated  above  all  con- 
siderations, save  those  which  she  could,  with  a  clear 
conscience,  call  him  to  witness.  She  repeated  the  form 
in  a  low  and  reverent,  but  distinct  tone  of  voice,  after 
the  Judge,  to  whom,  and  not  to  any  inferior  officer  of 
the  court,  the  task  is  assigned  in  Scotland  of  directing 
the  witness  in  that  solemn  appeal,  which  is  the  sanction 
of  his  testimony. 

When  the  Judge  had  finished  the  established  form, 
he  added  in  a  feeling,  but  yet  a  monitory  tone,  an  ad- 
vice, which  the  circumstances  appeared  to  him  to  call 
for. 

"  Young  woman,"  these  were  his  words,  "  you  come 
before  this  Court  in  circumstances,  which  it  would  be 
worse  than  cruel  not  to  pity  and  to  sympathize  with. 


TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS.  175 

Yet  it  is  my  duty  to  tell  you,  that  the  truth,  whatever 
its  consequences  may  be,  the  truth  is  what  you  owe  to 
your  country,  and  to  that  God  whose  Word  is  truth, 
and  whose  name  you  have  now  invoked.  Use  your 
own  time  in  answering  the  questions  that  gentleman" 
(pointing  to  the  counsel)  "shall  put  to  you. — But  re- 
member, that  what  you  may  be  tempted  to  say  beyond 
what  is  the  actual  truth,  you  must  answer  both  here  and 
hereafter." 

Fairbrother,  whose  practice  and  intelligence  were 
considerable,  saw  the  necessity  of  letting  the  witness 
compose  herself.  In  his  heart  he  suspected  that  she 
came  to  bear  false  witness  in  her  sister's  cause. 

"  But  that  is  her  own  affair,"  thought  Fairbrother; 
"  and  it  is  my  business  to  see  that  she  has  plenty  of 
time  to  regain  composure,  and  to  deliver  her  evidence, 
be  it  true,  or  be  it  false — valeat  qiiantnmJ''' 

Accordhigly,  he  commenced  his  interrogatories  with 
uninteresting  questions,  which  admitted  of  instant  re- 
ply. "  You  are,  I  think,  the  sister  of  the  prisoner  ?" — 
"Yes,  sir." — "Not  the  full  sister,  however  ?" — "No, 
sir — we  are  by  different  mothers." — "True;  and  you 
are,  I  think,  several  years  older  than  your  sister  ?" — 
"  Yes,  sir,"  &c. 

After  the  advocate  had  conceived  that,  by  these  pre- 
liminary and  unimportant  questions,  he  had  familiarized 
the  witness  with  the  situation  in  which  she  stood,  he 
asked,  "  whether  she  had  not  remarked  her  sister's 
state  of  health  to  be  altered  ?" 

Jeanie  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"  And  she  told  you  the  cause  of  it,  my  dear,  I  sup- 


176  TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS. 

pose  ?"  said  Fairbrother,  in  an  easy,  and,  as  one  may 
say,  an  inductive  sort  of  tone. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  my  brother,"  said  the  Crown 
Counsel,  rising;  "but  I  am  in  your  Lordship's  judgment, 
whether  this  be  not  a  leading  question  ?" 

"If  this  point  is  to  be  debated,"  said  the  presiding 
Judge,  "  the  witness  must  be  removed." 

For  the  Scottish  lawyers  regard  with  a  sacred  and 
scrupulous  horror,  every  question  so  shaped  by  the 
counsel  examining,  as  to  convey  to  a  witness  the  least 
intimation  of  the  nature  of  the  answer  which  is  desired 
from  him.  These  scruples,  though  founded  on  an  ex- 
cellent principle,  are  sometimes  carried  to  an  absurd 
pitch  of  nicety,  especially  as  it  is  generally  easy  for  a 
lawyer  who  has  his  wits  about  him,  to  elude  the  objec- 
tion,    Fairbrother  did  so  in  the  present  case. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  to  waste  the  time  of  the  Court, 
my  Lord;  since  the  King's  Counsel  thinks  it  worth 
■while  to  object  to  the  form  of  my  question,  I  will  shape 
it  otherwise.  Pray,  young  woman,  did  you  ask  your 
sister  any  question  when  you  observed  her  looking  un- 
well ? — take  courage — speak  out." 

"  I  asked  her,"  said  Jeanie,  "  what  ailed  her." 

"  Very  well — take  your  own  time— and  what  was 
the  answer  she  made?"  continued  Mr.  Fairbrother. 

Jeanie  was  silent,  and  looked  deadly  pale.  It  was 
not  that  she  at  any  one  instant  entertained  an  idea  of 
the  possibility  of  prevarication — it  was  the  natural  he- 
sitation to  extinguish  the  last  spark  of  hope  that  remain- 
ed for  her  sister. 

"Take  courage,  young  woman,"  said  Fairbrother. — 


TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS.  177 

"  I  asked  what  your  sister  said  ailed  her  when  you  in- 
quired ?" 

"  Nothing,"  answered  Jeanie,  with  a  faint  voice, 
which  was  yet  heard  distinctly  in  the  most  distant  cor- 
ner of  the  Court-room, — such  an  awful  and  profound 
silence  had  been  preserved  during  the  anxious  interval, 
which  had  interposed  betwixt  the  lawyer's  question  and 
the  answer  of  the  witness. 

Fairbrother's  countenance  fell;  but  with  that  ready 
presence  of  mind,  which  is  as  useful  in  civil  as  in  mi- 
litary emergencies,  he  immediately  rallied.  "  Nothing? 
True;  you  mean  noih'mg  at  Jirst — but  when  you  asked 
her  again,  did  she  not  tell  you  what  ailed  her?" 

The  question  was  put  in  a  tone  meant  to  make  her 
comprehend  the  importance  of  her  answer,  had  she  not 
been  already  aware  of  it.  The  ice  was  broken,  how- 
ever, and,  with  less  pause  than  at  first,  she  now  replied 
— "  Alack  !  alack  !  she  never  breathed  word  to  me 
about  it." 

A  deep  groan  passed  through  the  Court.  It  was 
echoed  by  one  deeper  and  more  agonized,  from  the  un- 
fortunate father.  The  hope,  to  which  unconsciously, 
and  in  spite  of  himself,  he  had  still  secretly  clung,  had 
now  dissolved,  and  the  venerable  old  man  fell  forward 
senseless  on  the  floor  of  the  Court-house,  with  his  head 
at  the  foot  of  his  terrified  daughter.  The  unfortunate 
prisoner,  with  impotent  passion,  strove  with  the  guards, 
betwixt  whom  she  was  placed.  "  Let  me  gang  to  my 
father  ! — I  will  gang  to  him — I  will  gang  to  him — he  is 
dead— he  is  killed — I  has  killed  him  !" — she  repeated 
in  frenzied  tones  of  grief,  which  those  who  heard  them 
did  not  speedily  forget. 


178  TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS. 

Even  in  this  moment  of  agony  and  general  confusion, 
Jeanie  did  not  lose  that  superiority,  which  a  deep  and 
firm  mind  assures  to  its  possessor  under  the  most  trying 
circumstances.  "  He  is  my  father — he  is  our  father," 
she  mildly  repeated  to  those  who  endeavored  to  sepa- 
rate them,  as  she  stooped, — shaded  aside  his  gray  hairs, 
and  began  assiduously  to  chafe  his  temples. 

The  Judge,  after  repeatedly  wiping  his  eyes,  gave 
directions  that  they  should  be  conducted  into  a  neigh- 
boring apartment,  and  carefully  attended.  The  prisoner, 
as  her  father  was  borne  from  the  Court,  and  her  sister 
slowly  followed,  pursued  them  with  her  eyes  so  earn- 
estly fixed,  as  if  they  would  have  started  from  their 
sockets.  But  when  they  were  no  longer  visible,  she 
seemed  to  find,  in  her  despairing  and  deserted  state,  a 
courage  which  she  had  not  yet  exhibited. 

"  The  bitterness  of  it  is  now  past,"  she  said,  and 
then  boldly  addressed  the  Court — "  My  Lords,  if  it  is 
your  pleasure  to  gang  on  wi'  this  matter,  the  weariest 
day  will  hae  its  end  at  last." 

The  Judge,  who,  much  to  his  honor,  had  shared 
deeply  in  the  general  sympathy,  was  surprised  at  being 
recalled  to  his  duty  by  the  prisoner.  He  collected 
himself,  and  requested  to  know  if  the  panel's  counsel 
had  more  evidence  to  produce.  Fairbrother  replied, 
with  an  air  of  dejection,  that  his  proof  was  concluded. 

The  King's  Counsel  addressed  the  jury  for  the  Crown. 
He  said  in  few  words,  that  no  one  could  be  more  con- 
cerned than  he  was  for  the  distressing  scene  which 
they  had  just  witnessed.  But  it  was  the  necessary  con- 
sequence of  great  crimes  to  bring  distress  and  ruin  upon 
all  connected   with  the  perpetrators.     He  briefly  re- 


TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS.  179 

viewed  the  proof,  in  which  he  showed  that  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  case  concurred  with  those  required 
by  the  act  under  which  the  unfortunate  prisoner  was 
tried. 

The  charge  of  Fairbrother  was  much  cramped  by 
his  having  failed  in  the  proof  which  he  expected  to 
lead.  But  he  fought  his  losing  cause  with  courage  and 
constancy. 

The  jury,  having  heard  the  Judge's  address,  bowed 
and  retired,  preceded  by  a  macer  of  Court,  to  the  apart- 
ment destined  for  their  deliberation. 

It  was  an  hour  ere  the  jurors  returned,  and  as  they 
traversed  the  crowd  with  slow  steps,  as  men  about  to 
discharge  themselves  of  a  heavy  and  painful  responsi- 
bility, the  audience  was  hushed  into  profound,  earnest, 
and  awful  silence. 

"  Have  you  agreed  on  your  chancellor,  gentlemen?" 
was  the  first  question  of  the  Judge. 

The  foreman,  called  in  Scotland  the  chancellor  of 
the  jury,  usually  the  man  of  best  rank  and  estimation 
among  the  assizers,  stepped  forward,  and,  with  a  low 
reverence,  delivered  to  the  Court  a  sealed  paper  con- 
taining the  verdict,  which,  until  of  late  years,  that  verbal 
returns  are  in  some  instances  permitted,  was  always 
couched  in  writing.  The  jury  remained  standing  while 
the  Judge  broke  the  seals,  and,  having  perused  the  paper, 
handed  it  with  an  air  of  mournful  gravity  down  to  the 
Clerk  of  Court,  who  proceeded  to  engross  in  the  record 
the  yet  unknown  verdict,  of  which,  however,  all  omened 
the  tragical  contents.  A  form  still  remained,  trifling 
and  unimportant  in  itself,  but  to  which  imagination  adds 
a  sort  of  solemnity,  from  the  awful  occasion  upon  which 


180  TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS. 

it  is  used.  A  lighted  candle  was  placed  on  the  table, 
the  original  paper  containing  the  verdict  was  enclosed 
in  a  sheet  of  paper,  and,  sealed  with  the  Judge's  own 
signet,  was  transmitted  to  the  Crown  Office,  to  be  pre- 
served among  other  records  of  the  same  kind.  As  all 
this  is  transacted  in  profound  silence,  the  producing  and 
extinguishing  the  candle  seem  a  type  of  the  human 
spark  which  is  shortly  afterwards  doomed  to  be 
quenched,  and  excites  in  the  spectators  something  of 
the  same  effect  which  in  England  is  obtained  by  the 
Judge  assuming  the  fatal  cap  of  judgment.  When 
these  preliminary  forms  had  been  gone  through,  the 
Judge  required  Euphemia  Deans  to  attend  to  the  verdict 
to  be  read. 

The  verdict  set  forth,  that  the  Jury  did  by  a  plurality 
of  voices,  find  the  said  Euphemia  Deans  Guilty  of  the 
crime  libelled ;  but  in  consideration  of  her  extreme 
youth,  and  the  cruel  circumstances  of  her  case,  did 
earnestly  intreat  that  the  Judge  would  recommend  her 
to  the  mercy  of  the  Crown. 

The  presiding  Judge  then  addressed  the  unhappy 
prisoner: — "Euphemia  Deans,  attend  to  the  sentence 
of  the  Court  now  to  be  pronounced  against  you," 

She  rose  from  her  seat,  and,  with  a  composure  far 
greater  than  could  have  been  augured  from  her  demeanor 
during  some  parts  of  the  trial,  abode  the  conclusion 
of  the  awful  scene.  So  nearly  does  the  mental  portion 
of  our  feelings  resemble  those  which  are  corporeal,  that 
the  first  severe  blows  which  we  receive,  bring  with  them 
a  stunning  apathy,  which  renders  us  indifferent  to  those 
that  follow  them.  Thus  said  Mandrin,  when  he  was 
undergoing  the  punishment  of  the  wheel ;  and  so  have 


TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS.  181 

all  felt,  upon  whom  successive  inflictions  have  descend- 
ed with  continuous  and  reiterated  violence. 

"  Young  woman,"  said  the  Judge,  "  it  is  my  painful 
duty  to  tell  you,  that  your  life  is  forfeited,  and  I  do  most 
solemnly  adjure  you  to  employ  the  remaining  space  of 
your  time  in  making  your  peace  with  God,  for  which 
purpose  such  reverend  clergymen,  as  you  yourself  may 
name,  shall  have  access  to  you.  Notwithstanding  the 
humane  recommendation  of  the  jury,  I  cannot  afl'ord  to 
you,  in  the  present  circumstances  of  the  country,  the 
slightest  hope  that  your  life  will  be  prolonged  beyond 
the  period  assigned  for  the  execution  of  your  sentence. 
Forsaking,  therefore,  the  thoughts  of  this  world,  let  your 
mind  be  prepared  by  repentance  for  those  of  more 
awful  moments — for  death,  judgment,  and  eternity. 
Doomster,  read  the  sentence." 

AVhen  the  Doomster  showed  himself,  a  tall  haggard 
figure,  arrayed  in  a  fantastic  garment  of  black  and  gray, 
passmented  with  silver  lace,  all  fell  back  with  a  sort  of 
instinctive  horror,  and  made  wide  way  for  him  to  ap- 
proach the  foot  of  the  table.  As  this  office  was  held 
by  the  common  executioner,  men  shouldered  each  other 
backward  to  avoid  even  the  touch  of  his  garment,  and 
some  were  seen  to  brush  their  own  clothes  which  had 
accidentally  become  subject  to  such  contamination.  A 
sound  went  through  the  court,  produced  by  each  person 
drawing  in  their  breath  hard,  as  men  do  when  they  ex- 
pect or  witness  what  is  frightful,  and  at  the  same  time 
alTecting. 

Repeating  after  the  Clerk  of  Court,  he  gabbled  over 
the  words  of  the  sentence,  which  condemned  Euphe- 
mia  Deans  to  be  conducted  back  to  the   Tolbooth  of 


182  TRIAL  OF  EFFIE  DEANS. 

Edinburgh,  and  detained  there  until   Wednesday  the 

day  of ;  and    upon  that   day,  betwixt   the 

hours  of  two  and  four  o'clock  afternoon,  to  be  conveyed 
to  the  common  place  of  execution,  and  there  hanged  by 
the  neck  upon  a  gibbet.  "And  this,"  said  the  Doom- 
ster,  aggravating  his  harsh  voice,  "I  pronounce  for 
doom." 

He  vanished  when  he  had  spoken  the  last  emphatic 
word,  like  a  foul  fiend  after  the  purpose  of  his  visitation 
had  been  accomplished  ;  but  the  impression  of  horror, 
excited  by  his  presence  and  his  errand,  remained  upon 
the  crowd  of  spectators. 

The  unfortunate  criminal, — for  so  she  must  now  be 
termed, — with  more  susceptibility,  and  more  irritable 
feelings  than  her  father  and  sister,  was  found  in  this 
emergence,  to  possess  a  considerable  share  of  their 
courage.  She  had  remained  standing  motionless  at  the 
bar  while  the  sentence  was  pronounced,  and  was  ob- 
served to  shut  her  eyes  when  the  Doomster  appeared. 
But  she  was  the  first  to  break  silence  when  that  evil 
form  had  left  his  place. 

"God  forgive  ye,  my  Lords,"  she  said,  "and  dinna 
be  angry  wi'  me  for  wishing  it — we  a'  need  forgiveness. 
— As  for  myself  I  canna  blame  ye,  for  ye  act  up  to 
your  lights ;  and  if  I  havena  killed  my  poor  infant,  ye 
may  witness  a'  that  hae  seen  it  this  day,  that  I  hae  been 
the  means  of  killing  my  grayheaded  father — I  deserve 
the  warst  frae  man,  and  frae  God  too — But  God  is  mair 
mercifu'  to  us  than  we  are  to  each  other." 

With  these  words  the  trial  concluded. 


183 


JEA.NIE  PROCURES  HER  SISTER'S 
PARDON 

FROM    QUEEN    CAROLINE.* 

The  carriage  rolled  rapidly  onwards  through  fertile 
meadows,  ornamented  with  splendid  old  oaks,  and 
catching  occasionally  a  glance  of  the  majestic  mirror  of 
a  broad  and  placid  river.  After  passing  through  a 
pleasant  village,  the  equipage  stopped  on  a  command- 
ing eminence,  where  the  beauty  of  English  landscape 
was  displayed  in  its  utmost  luxuriance.  Here  the  Duke 
alighted,  and  desired  Jeanie  to  follow  him.  They 
paused  for  a  moment  on  the  brow  of  a  hill,  to  gaze  on 
the  unrivaled  landscape  which  it  presented.  A  huge 
sea  of  verdure,  with  crossing  and  intersecting  promon- 
tories of  massive  and  tufted  groves,  was  tenanted  by 
numberless  flocks  and  herds,  which  seemed  to  wander 
unrestrained  and  unbounded  through  the  rich  pastures. 
The  Thames,  here  turreted  with  villas,  and  there  gar- 
landed with  forests,  moved  on  slowly  and  placidly,  like 
the  mighty  monarch  of  the  scene,  to  whom  all  its  other 
beauties  were  but  accessories,  and  bore  on  its  bosom  an 
hundred  barks  and  skiffs,  whose  white  sails  and  gayly 
fluttering  pennons  gave  life  to  the  whole. 

The  Duke  of  Argyle  was,  of  course,  familiar  with 

*  Jeanie  travels  to  London  on  foot,  and  has  an  interview  with 
the  Dulie  of  Argyle,  who  is  much  interested  in  her  story,  and 
takes  her  in  his  carriage  to  the  Queen's  Palace  at  Richmond. 


184  JEANIE  PROCURES  HER  SISTEr's  PARDON 

this  scene ;  but  to  a  man  of  taste  it  must  be  always 
new.  Yet,  as  he  paused  and  looked  on  this  inimitable 
landscape,  with  the  feeling  of  delight  which  it  must 
give  to  the  bosom  of  every  admirer  of  nature,  his 
thoughts  naturally  reverted  to  his  own  more  grand,  and 
scarce  less  beautiful,  domains  of  Inverary. — "  This  is  a 
fine  scene,"  he  said  to  his  companion,  curious,  perhaps, 
to  draw  out  her  sentiments  ;  "  we  have  nothing  like  it 
in  Scotland." 

"  It's  braw  rich  feeding  for  the  cows,  and  they  have 
a  fine  breed  o'  cattle  here,"  replied  Jeanie ;  "  but  I 
like  just  as  weel  to  look  at  the  craigs  of  Arthur's  Seat, 
and  the  sea  coming  in  ayont  them,  as  a'  thae  muckle 
trees." 

The  Duke  smiled  at  a  reply  equally  professional  and 
national,  and  made  a  signal  for  the  carriage  to  remain 
where  it  was.  Then  adopting  an  unfrequented  foot- 
path, he  conducted  Jeanie,  through  several  complicated 
mazes,  to  a  postern-door  in  a  high  brick  wall.  It  was 
shut;  but  as  the  Duke  tapped  slightly  at  it,  a  person  in 
waiting  within,  after  reconnoitering  through  a  small  iron- 
gate  contrived  for  the  purpose,  unlocked  the  door  and 
admitted  them.  They  entered,  and  it  was  immediately 
closed  and  fastened  behind  them.  This  was  all  done 
quickly,  the  door  so  instantly  closing,  and  the  person 
who  opened  it  so  suddenly  disappearing,  that  Jeanie 
could  not  even  catch  a  glimpse  of  his  exterior. 

They  found  themselves  at  the  extremity  of  a  deep 
and  narrow  alley,  carpeted  with  the  most  verdant  and 
close-shaven  turf,  which  felt  like  velvet  under  their  feet, 
and  screened  from  the  sun  by  the  branches  of  the  lofty 
elms  which  united  over  the  path,  and  caused  it  to  re- 


FROM  QUEEN  CAROLINE.  185 

semble,  in  the  solemn  obscurity  of  the  light  which  they 
admitted,  as  well  as  from  the  range  of  columnar  stems, 
and  intricate  union  of  their  arched  branches,  one  of  the 
narrow  side  aisles  in  an  ancient  Gothic  cathedral. 

Encouraged  as  she  was  by  the  courteous  manners 
of  her  noble  countryman,  it  was  not  without  a  feeling 
of  something  like  terror  that  Jeanie  felt  herself  in  a 
place  apparently  so  lonely,  with  a  man  of  such  high 
rank.  That  she  should  have  been  permitted  to  wait  on 
the  Duke  in  his  own  house,  and  have  been  there  re- 
ceived to  a  private  interview,  was  in  itself  an  uncom- 
mon and  distinguished  event  in  the  annals  of  a  life  so 
simple  as  hers  ;  but  to  find  herself  his  traveling  com- 
panion in  a  journey,  and  then  suddenly  to  be  left  alone 
with  him  in  so  secluded  a  situation,  had  something  in 
it  of  awful  mystery.  A  romantic  heroine  might  have 
suspected  and  dreaded  the  power  of  her  own  charms ; 
but  Jeanie  was  too  wise  to  let  such  a  silly  thought  in- 
trude on  her  mind.  Still,  however,  she  had  a  most 
eager  desire  to  know  where  she  now  was,  and  to  whom 
she  was  to  be  presented. 

She  remarked  that  the  Duke's  dress,  though  still 
such  as  indicated  rank  and  fashion,  (for  it  was  not  the 
custom  of  men  of  quality  at  that  time  to  dress  them- 
selves like  their  own  coachmen  or  grooms,)  was  never- 
theless plainer  than  that  in  which  she  had  seen  him 
upon  a  former  occasion,  and  was  divested,  in  particular, 
of  all  those  badges  of  external  decoration  which  inti- 
mated superior  consequence.  In  short,  he  was  attired 
as  plainly  as  any  gentleman  of  fashion  could  appear  in 
the  streets  of  London,  in  a  morning;  and  this  circum- 
stance helped  to  shake  an  opinion  which  Jeanie  began 

VOL.  II. — 13 


186  JEANIE  PROCURES  HER  SISTER's  PARDON 

to  entertain,  that,  perhaps,  he  intended  she  should  plead 
her  cause  in  the  presence  of  royalty  itself.  "  But,  sure- 
ly," said  she  to  herself,  "  he  wad  hae  putten  on  his 
braw  star  and  garter,  an  he  had  thought  o'  coming  be- 
fore the  face  of  Majesty — and,  after  a',  this  is  mair  like 
a  gentleman's  policy  than  a  royal  palace." 

From  the  narrow  alley  which  they  had  traversed, 
the  Duke  turned  into  one  of  the  same  character,  but 
broader  and  still  longer.  Here,  for  the  first  time  since 
they  had  entered  these  gardens,  Jeanie  saw  persons  ap- 
proaching them. 

They  were  two  ladies  ;  one  of  whom  walked  a  little 
behind  the  other,  yet  not  so  much  as  to  prevent  her  from 
hearing  and  replying  to  whatever  observation  was  ad- 
dressed to  her  by  the  lady  who  walked  foremost,  and 
that  without  her  having  the  trouble  to  turn  her  person. 
As  they  advanced  very  slowly,  Jeanie  had  time  to  study 
their  features  and  appearance.  The  Duke  also  slack- 
ened his  pace,  as  if  to  give  her  time  to  collect  herself, 
and  repeatedly  desired  her  not  to  be  afraid.  The  lady 
who  seemed  the  principal  person  had  remarkably  good 
features,  though  somewhat  injured  by  the  small-pox, 
that  venomous  scourge  which  each  village  Esculapius 
(thanks  to  Jenner)  can  now  tame  as  easily  as  their  tu- 
telar deity  subdued  the  Python.  The  lady's  eyes  were 
brilliant,  her  teeth  good,  and  her  countenance  formed 
to  express  at  will  either  majesty  or  courtesy.  Her  form, 
though  rather  embonpoint,  was  nevertheles  graceful ; 
and  the  elasticity  and  firmness  of  her  step  gave  no  room 
to  suspect,  what  was  actually  the  case,  that  she  suffered 
occasionally  from  a  disorder  the   most  unfavorable  to 


FROM  QUEEN  CAROLIXE.  187 

pedestrian  exercise.  Her  dress  was  rather  rich  than 
gay,  and  her  manner  commanding  and  noble. 

Her  companion  was  of  lower  stature,  with  light- 
brown  hair  and  expressive  blue  eyes.  Her  features, 
without  being  absolutely  regular,  were,  perhaps,  more 
pleasing  than  if  they  had  been  critically  handsome.  A 
melancholy,  or,  at  least,  a  pensive  expression,  for  which 
her  lot  gave  too  much  cause,  predominated  when  she 
was  silent,  but  gave  way  to  a  pleasing  and  good-humor- 
ed smile  when  she  spoke  to  any  one. 

When  they  were  within  twelve  or  fifteen  yards  of 
these  ladies,  the  Duke  made  a  sign  that  Jeanie  should 
stand  still,  and  stepping  forward  himself,  with  the  grace 
which  was  natural  to  him,  made  a  profound  obeisance, 
which  was  formally,  yet  in  a  dignified  manner,  returned 
by  the  personage  whom  he  approached. 

"  I  hope,"  she  said,  with  an  affable  and  condescend- 
ing smile,  "  that  I  see  so  great  a  stranger  at  court,  as 
the  Duke  of  Argyle  has  been  of  late,  in  as  good  health 
as  his  friends,  there  and  elsewhere,  could  wish  him  to 
enjoy.'' 

The  Duke  replied,  "That  he  had  been  perfectly 
well;"  and  added,  "  that  the  necessity  of  attending  to 
the  public  business  before  the  House,  as  well  as  the 
time  occupied  by  a  late  journey  to  Scotland,  had  ren- 
dered him  less  assiduous  in  paying  his  duty  at  the  levee 
and  drawing-room  than  he  could  have  desired," 

"  When  your  Grace  can  find  time  for  a  duty  so  fri- 
volous," replied  the  Queen,  "  you  are  aware  of  your 
title  to  be  well  received.  I  hope  my  readiness  to  com- 
ply with  the  wish  M'hich  you  expressed  yesterday  to 
Lady  Suff'olk  is  a  sufficient  proof  that  one  of  the  royal 


188  JEANIE  PROCURES  HER  SISTEr's  PARDON 

family,  at  least,  has  not  forgotten  ancient  and  impor- 
tant services,  in  resenting  something  which  resembles 
recent  neglect."  This  was  said  apparently  with  great 
good  humor,  and  in  a  tone  which  expressed  a  desire  of 
conciliation. 

The  Duke  replied,  "  That  he  would  account  himself 
the  most  unfortunate  of  men,  if  he  could  be  supposed 
capable  of  neglecting  his  duty,  in  modes  and  circum- 
stances when  it  was  expected,  and  would  have  been 
agreeable.  He  was  deeply  gratified  by  the  honor  which 
her  Majesty  was  now  doiug  to  him  personally ;  and  he 
trusted  she  would  soon  perceive  that  it  was  in  a  matter 
essential  to  his  Majesty's  interest,  that  he  had  the  bold- 
ness to  give  her  this  trouble." 

"  You  cannot  oblige  me  more,  my  Lord  Duke," 
replied  the  Queen,  "  than  by  giving  me  the  advantage 
of  your  lights  and  experience  on  any  point  of  the  King's 
service.  Your  Grace  is  aware,  that  I  can  only  be  the 
medium  through  which  the  matter  is  subjected  to  his 
Majesty's  superior  wisdom;  but  if  it  is  a  suit  which 
respects  your  Grace  personally,  it  shall  lose  no  support 
by  being  preferred  through  me." 

"It  is  no  suit  of  mine,  madam,"  replied  the  Duke; 
"  nor  have  I  any  to  prefer  for  myself  personally,  although 
I  feel  in  full  force  my  obligation  to  your  majesty.  It 
is  a  business  which  concerns  his  Majesty,  as  a  lover  of 
justice  and  of  mercy,  and  which,  I  am  convinced,  may 
be  highly  useful  in  conciliating  the  unfortunate  irrita- 
tion which  at  present  subsists  among  his  Majesty's 
good  subjects  in  Scotland." 

With  that  precision  and  easy  brevity  which  is  only 
acquired  by  habitually  conversing  in  the  higher  ranks 


FROM  QUEEN  CAROLINE.  189 

of  society,  and  which  is  the  diametrical  opposite  of 
that  protracted  style  of  disquisition, 

"  Which  squires  call  potter,  and  which  men  call  prose," 

the  Duke  explained  the  singular  law  under  which  Effie 
Deans  had  received  sentence  of  death,  and  detailed  the 
affectionate  exertions  which  Jeanie  had  made  in  behalf 
of  a  sister,  for  whose  sake  she  was  willing  to  sacrifice 
all  but  truth  and  conscience. 

Queen  Caroline  listened  with  attention;  she  was 
rather  fond,  it  must  be  remembered,  of  an  argument, 
and  soon  found  matter  in  what  the  Duke  told  her  for 
raising  difficulties  to  his  request. 

"  It  appears  to  me,  my  TiOrd,"  she  replied,  "  that 
this  is  a  severe  law.  But  still  it  is  adopted  upon  good 
grounds,  I  am  bound  to  suppose,  as  the  law  of  the  coun- 
try, and  the  girl  has  been  convicted  under  it.  The 
very  presumptions  which  the  law  construes  into  a  posi- 
tive proof  of  guilt  exist  in  her  case;  and  all  that  your 
Grace  has  said  concerning  the  possibility  of  her  inno- 
cence may  be  a  very  good  argument  for  annulling  the 
Act  of  Parliament,  but  cannot,  while  it  stands  good,  be 
admitted  in  favor  of  any  individual  convicted  upon  the 
statute." 

The  Duke  saw  and  avoided  the  snare,  for  he  was 
conscious,  that,  by  replying  to  the  argument,  he  must 
have  been  inevitably  led  to  a  discussion,  in  the  course 
of  which  the  Queen  was  likely  to  be  hardened  in  her 
own  opinion,  until  she  became  obliged,  out  of  mere  re- 
spect to  consistency,  to  let  the  criminal  suffer.  "  If 
your  Majesty,"   he  said,  "  would  condescend  to  hear 


190  JEANIE  PROCURES  HER  SISTEr's  PARDON 

my  poor  countrywoman  herself,  perhaps  she  may  find 
an  advocate  in  your  own  heart,  more  able  than  I  am,  to 
combat  the  doubts  suggested  by  your  understanding." 

The  Queen  seemed  to  acquiesce,  and  the  Duke  made 
a  signal  for  Jeanie  to  advance  from  the  spot  where  she 
had  hitherto  remained  watching  countenances,  which 
were  too  long  accustomed  to  suppress  all  apparent  signs 
of  emotion,  to  convey  to  her  any  interesting  intelligence. 
Her  majesty  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  awe-struck 
manner  in  which  the  quiet  demure  figure  of  the  little 
Scotchwoman  advanced  towards  her,  and  yet  more  at 
the  first  sound  of  her  broad  northern  accent.  But 
Jeanie  had  a  voice  low  and  sweedy  toned,  an  admirable 
thing  in  woman,  and  eke  besought  "  her  Leddyship  to 
have  pity  on  a  poor  misguided  young  creature,"  in 
tones  so  affecting,  that,  like  the  notes  of  some  of  her 
native  songs,  provincial  vulgarity  was  lost  in  pathos. 

"Stand  up,  young  woman,"  said  the  Queen,  but  in 
a  kind  tone;  she  asked  how  she  had  traveled  up  from 
Scotland. 

"Upon  my  foot  mosUy,  madam,"  was  the  reply. 

"What,  all  that  immense  way  upon  foot? — How  far 
can  you  walk  in  a  day  ?" 

"Five-and-twenty  miles  and  a  bittock." 

"  And  a  what?"  said  the  Glueen,  looking  towards  the 
Duke  of  Argyle. 

"And  about  five  miles  more,"  replied  the  Duke. 

"  I  thought  I  was  a  good  walker,"  said  the  Queen, 
"but  this  shames  me  sadly." 

"May  your  Leddyship  never  hae  sae  weary  a  heart, 
that  ye  canna  be  sensible  of  the  weariness  of  the  limbs," 
said  Jeanie. 


FROM  QUEEN  CAROLINE.  191 

That  came  better  off,  thought  the  Duke ;  it's  the  first 
thing  she  has  said  to  the  purpose. 

"  And  I  didna  just  a'thegither  walk  the  haill  way 
neither,  for  I  had  whiles  the  cast  of  a  cart;  and  I  had 
the  cast  of  a  horse  from  Ferrybridge — and  divers  other 
easements,"  said  Jeanie,  cutting  short  her  story,  for  she 
observed  the  Duke  made  a  sign  he  had  fixed  upon. 

"  With  all  these  accommodations,"  answered  the 
Queen,  "you  must  have  had  a  very  fatiguing  journey, 
and,  I  fear,  to  little  purpose;  since,  if  the  King  were  to 
pardon  your  sister,  in  all  probability  it  would  do  her 
little  good,  for  I  suppose  your  people  of  Edinburgh 
would  hang  her  out  of  spite." 

She  will  sink  herself  now  outright,  thought  the  Duke. 

But  he  was  wrong.  The  shoals  on  which  Jeanie  had 
touched  in  this  delicate  conversation  lay  under  ground, 
and  were  unknown  to  her;  this  rock  was  above  water, 
and  she  avoided  it. 

"She  was  confident,"  she  said,  "that  baith  town  and 
country  wad  rejoice  to  see  his  Majesty  taking  compas- 
sion on  a  poor  unfriended  creature." 

"His  Majesty  has  not  found  it  so  in  a  late  instance," 
said  the  Queen;  "but  I  suppose,  my  Lord  Duke  would 
advise  him  to  be  guided  by  the  votes  of  the  rabble  them- 
selves, who  should  be  hanged  and  who  spared?" 

"No,  madam,"  said  the  Duke;  "but  I  would  advise 
his  Majesty  to  be  guided  by  his  own  feelings,  and  those 
of  his  royal  consort;  and  then,  I  am  sure,  punishment 
will  only  attach  itself  to  guilt,  and  even  then  with 
cautious  reluctance." 

"Well,  my  Lord,"  said  her  Majesty,  "all  these  fine 
speeches  do  not  convince  me  of  the  propriety  of  so  soon 


192  JEANIE   PROCURES  HER  SISTEr's  PARDON 

showing  any  mark  of  favor  to  your — I  suppose  I  must 
not  say  rebellious? — but,  at  least,  your  very  disaffected 
and  intractable  metropolis.  Hark  you,  young  woman, 
had  you  any  friends  engaged  in  the  Porteous  mob?" 

"  No,  madam,"  answered  Jeanie,  happy  that  the 
question  was  so  framed  that  she  could,  with  a  good  con- 
science, answer  it  in  the  negative. 

"  But  I  suppose,"  continued  the  Queen,  "  if  you  were 
possessed  of  such  a  secret,  you  would  hold  it  a  matter 
of  conscience  to  keep  it  to  yourself?" 

"I  would  pray  to  be  directed  and  guided  what  was 
the  line  of  duty,  madam,"  answered  Jeanie. 

"Yes,  and  take  that  which  suited  your  own  inclina- 
tions," replied  her  Majesty. 

"If  it  like  you,  madam,"  said  Jeanie,  "I  would  hae 
gaen  to  the  end  of  the  earth  to  save  the  life  of  John 
Porteous,  or  any  other  unhappy  man  in  his  condition ; 
but  I  might  lawfully  doubt  how  far  I  am  called  upon  to 
be  the  avenger  of  his  blood,  though  it  may  become  the 
civil  magistrate  to  do  so.  He  is  dead  and  gane  to  his 
place,  and  they  that  have  slain  him  must  answer  for 
their  ain  act.  But  my  sister — my  puir  sister  Effie,  still 
lives,  though  her  days  and  hours  are  numbered! — She 
still  lives,  and  a  word  of  the  King's  mouth  might  re- 
store her  to  a  broken-hearted  auld  man,  that  never,  in 
his  daily  and  nightly  exercise,  forgot  to  pray  that  his 
Majesty  might  be  blessed  with  a  long  and  a  prosperous 
reign,  and  that  his  throne,  and  the  throne  of  his  posterity, 
might  be  established  in  righteousness.  O,  madam,  if 
ever  ye  kend  what  it  was  to  sorrow  for  and  with  a  sin- 
ning and  a  suffering  creature,  whose  mind  is  sae  tossed 
that  she  can  be  neither  ca'd  fit  to  live  or  die,  have  some 


FROM  QUEEN  CAROLINE.  193 

compassion  on  our  misery! — Save  an  honest  house 
from  dishonor,  and  an  unhappy  girl,  not  eighteen  years 
of  age,  from  an  early  and  dreadful  death !  Alas !  it  is 
not  when  we  sleep  soft  and  wake  merrily  ourselves  that 
we  think  on  other  people's  sufferings.  Our  hearts  are 
waxed  light  within  us  then,  and  we  are  for  righting  our 
ain  wrangs  and  fighting  our  ain  battles.  But  when  the 
hour  of  trouble  comes  to  the  mind  or  to  the  body — and 
seldom  may  it  visit  your  Leddyship — and  when  the 
hour  of  death  comes,  that  comes  to  high  and  low — lang 
and  late  may  it  be  yours ! — Oh,  my  Leddy,  then  it  isna 
what  we  hae  dune  for  oursells,  but  what  we  hae  dune 
for  others,  that  we  think  on  maist  pleasantly.  And  the 
thoughts  that  ye  hae  intervened  to  spare  the  puir  thing's 
life  will  be  sweeter  in  that  hour,  come  when  it  may, 
than  if  a  word  of  your  mouth  could  hang  the  haill 
Porteous  mob  at  the  tail  of  ae  tow." 

Tear  followed  tear  down  Jeanie's  cheeks,  as,  her 
features  glowing  and  quivering  with  emotion,  she  pleaded 
her  sister's  cause  with  a  pathos  which  was  at  once  sim- 
ple and  solemn. 

"  This  is  eloquence,"  said  her  Majesty  to  the  Duke 
of  Argyle.  "  Young  woman,"  she  continued,  address- 
ing herself  to  Jeanie,  "  I  cannot  grant  a  pardon  to  your 
sister — but  you  shall  not  want  my  warm  intercession 
with  his  Majesty.  Take  this  housewife  case,"  she 
continued,  putting  a  small  embroidered  needle-case  into 
Jeanie's  hands;  "do  not  open  it  now,  but  at  your 
leisure — you  will  find  something  in  it  which  will  remind 
you  that  you  have  had  an  interview  with  Queen  Caro- 
line." 

Jeanie,  having  her  suspicions  thus  confirmed,  dropped 


194  CHARLIES-HOPE 

on  her  knees,  and  would  have  expanded  herself  in  gra- 
titude ;  but  the  Duke,  who  was  upon  thorns  lest  she 
should  say  more  or  less  than  just  enough,  touched  his 
chin  once  more. 

"  Our  business  is,  I  think,  ended  for  the  present, 
my  Lord  Duke,"  said  the  Queen,  "  and,  I  trust,  to  your 
satisfaction.  Hereafter  I  hope  to  see  your  Grace  more 
frequently,  both  at  Richmond  and  St  James's — Come, 
Lady  Suffolk,  we  must  wish  his  Grace  good-raorning." 

They  exchanged  their  parting  reverences,  and  the 
Duke,  so  soon  as  the  ladies  had  turned  their  backs, 
assisted  Jeanie  to  rise  from  the  ground,  and  conducted 
her  back  through  the  avenue,  which  she  trode  with  the 
feeling  of  one  who  walks  in  her  sleep. 


CHARLIES-HOPE- 

THE      FARM      OF      DANDIE      DINMONT. 

The  present  store-farmers  of  the  south  of  Scotland 
are  a  much  more  refined  race  than  their  fathers,  and 
the  manners  I  am  now  to  describe  have  either  altogether 
disappeared,  or  are  greatly  modified.  Without  losing 
the  rural  simplicity  of  manners,  they  now  cultivate  arts 
unknown  to  the  former  generation,  not  only  in  the  pro- 
gressive improvement  of  their  possessions,  but  in  all 
the  comforts  of  life.  Their  houses  are  more  commo- 
dious, their  habits  of  life  regulated  so  as  better  to  keep 


THE  FARM  OF  DANDIE  DINMONT.         195 

pace  with  those  of  the  civilized  world,  and  the  best  of 
luxuries,  the  luxury  of  knowledge,  has  gained  much 
ground  among  their  hills  during  the  last  thirty  years. 
Deep  drinking,  formerly  their  greatest  failing,  is  now 
fast  losing  ground ;  and  while  the  frankness  of  their 
extensive  hospitality  continues  the  same,  it  is,  generally 
speaking,  refined  in  its  character,  and  restrained  in  its 
excesses. 

"  Deil's  in  the  wife,"  said  Dandie  Dinmont,  shaking 
off  his  spouse's  embrace,  but  gently  and  with  a  look  of 
great  affection  ;  "  d'ye  no  see  the  stranger  gentleman  ?" 

Ailie  turned  to  make  her  apology — "  Troth,  I  was 
sae  weel  pleased  too  see  the  gudeman,  that — But,  gude 
gracious  !  what's  the  matter  wi'  ye  baith  ?" — for  they 
were  now  in  her  little  parlor,  and  the  candle  showed 
the  streaks  of  blood  which  Dinmont's  wounded  head 
had  plentifully  imparted  to  the  clothes  of  his  companion 
as  well  as  to  his  own.  "  Ye've  been  fighting  again, 
Dandy,  wi'  some  o'  the  Bewcasde  horse-coupers  !  Wow, 
man,  a  married  man,  wi'  a  bonny  family  like  yours, 
should  ken  better  what  a  father's  life's  worth  in  the 
warld." — The  tears  stood  in  the  good  woman's  eyes  as 
she  spoke. 

"  Whisht  !  whisht !  gudewife,"  said  her  husband, 
with  a  smack  that  had  much  more  affection  than  cere- 
mony in  it ;  "  Never  mind — never  mind — there's  a 
gentleman  that  will  tell  you,  that  just  when  I  had  ga'en 
up  to  Lourie  Lowther's,  and  had  bidden  the  drinking  of 
twa  cheerers,  and  gotten  just  in  again  upon  the  moss, 
and  was  whigging  cannily  awa  hame,  twa  land-loupers 
jumpit  out  of  a  peat-hag  on  me  or  I  was  thinking,  and 
got  me  down,  and  knevelled  me  sair  aneuch,  or  I  could 


196  CHARLIES-HOPE 

gar  my  whip  walk  about  their  lugs — and  troth,  gudewife, 
if  this  honest  gentleman  hadna  come  up,  I  would  have 
gotten  mair  licks  than  I  like,  and  lost  mair  siller  than  I 
could  weel  spare;  so  ye  maun  be  thankful  to  him  for  it 
under  God."  With  that  he  drew  from  his  side-pocket 
a  large  greasy  leather  pocket-book,  and  bade  the  gude- 
wife lock  it  up  in  her  kist. 

"  God  bless  the  gentleman,  and  e'en  God  bless  him 
wi'  a'  my  heart — but  what  can  we  do  for  him,  but  togie 
him  the  meat  and  quarters  we  wadna  refuse  to  the 
poorest  body  on  earth — unless  (her  eye  directed  to  the 
pocket-book,  but  with  a  feeling  of  natural  propriety 
which  made  the  inference  the  most  delicate  possible), 

unless  there  was  ony  other  way" Brown  saw,  and 

estimated  at  its  due  rate,  the  mixture  of  simplicity 
and  grateful  generosity  which  took  the  downright  way 
of  expressing  itself,  yet  qualified  with  so  much  delicacy ; 
he  was  aware  his  own  appearance,  plain  at  best,  and 
now  torn  and  spattered  with  blood,  made  him  an  object 
of  pity  at  least,  and  perhaps  of  charity.  He  hastened 
to  say  his  name  was  Brown,  a  captain  in  the regi- 
ment of  cavalry,  traveling  for  pleasure,  and  on  foot,  both 
from  motives  of  independence  and  economy ;  and  he 
begged  his  kind  landlady  would  look  at  her  husband's 
wounds,  the  state  of  which  he  had  refused  to  permit 
him  to  examine.  Mrs.  Dinmont  was  used  to  her  hus- 
band's broken  heads  more  than  to  the  presence  of  a 
captain  of  dragoons.  She  therefore  glanced  at  a  table- 
cloth not  quite  clean,  and  conned  over  her  proposed 
supper  a  minute  or  two,  before,  patting  her  husband  on 
the  shoulder,  she  bade  him  sit  down  for  "  a  hard-headed 


THE  FARM  OF  DANDIE  DINMONT.  197 

loon,  that  was  aye  bringing  himself  and  other  folk  into 
collie-shangies." 

When  Dandie  Dinmont,  after  executing  two  or  three 
caprioles,  and  cutting  the  Highland-fling,  by  way  of 
ridicule  of  his  wife's  anxiety,  at  last  deigned  to  sit  down 
and  commit  his  round,  black,  shaggy  bullet  of  a  head 
to  her  inspection.  Brown  thought  he  had  seen  the  regi- 
mental surgeon  look  grave  upon  a  more  trifling  case. 
The  gudewife,  however,  showed  some  knowledge  of 
chirurgery — she  cut  away  with  her  scissors  the  gory 
locks,  whose  stiffened  and  coagulated  clusters  interfered 
with  her  operations,  and  clapped  on  the  wound  some 
lint  besmeared  with  a  vulnerary  salve,  esteemed  sove- 
reign by  the  whole  dale  (which  afforded  upon  Fair  nights 
considerable  experience  of  such  cases) — she  then  fixed 
her  plaster  with  a  bandage,  and,  spite  of  her  patient's 
resistance,  pulled  over  all  a  night-cap,  to  keep  every- 
thing in  its  right  place.  Some  contusions  on  the  brow 
and  shoulders  she  fomented  with  brandy,  which  the 
patient  did  not  permit  till  the  medicine  had  paid  a  heavy 
toll  to  his  mouth.  Mrs.  Dinmont  then  simply,  but 
kindly,  offered  her  assistance  to  Brown. 

He  assured  her  he  had  no  occasion  for  anything  but 
the  accommodation  of  a  basin  and  towel. 

"  And  that's  what  I  should  have  thought  of  sooner," 
she  said  ;  "  and  I  did  think  o  't,  but  I  durst  na  open  the 
door,  for  there's  a'  the  bairns,  poor  things,  sae  keen  to 
see  their  father." 

This  explained  a  great  drumming  and  whining  at  the 
door  of  the  little  parlor,  which  had  somewhat  surprised 
Brown,  though  his  kind  landlady  had  only  noticed  it 
by  fastening  the  bolt  as  soon  as   she  heard  it  begin. 


198  CIIARLIES-HOPE 

But  on  her  opening  the  door  to  seek  the  basin  and  towel 
(for  she  never  thought  of  showing  the  guest  to  a  separate 
room),  a  whole  tide  of  white-headed  urchins  streamed 
in,  some  from  the  stable,  where  they  had  been  seeing 
Dumple,  and  giving  him  a  welcome  home  with  part  of 
their  four-hours'  scones  ;  others  from  the  kitchen,  where 
they  had  been  listening  to  auld  Elspeth's  tales  and  bal- 
lads ;  and  the  youngest  half-naked,  out  of  bed,  all  roar- 
ing to  see  daddy,  and  to  inquire  what  he  had  brought 
home  for  them  from  the  various  fairs  he  had  visited 
in  his  peregrinations.  Our  knight  of  the  broken  head 
first  kissed  and  hugged  them  all  round,  then  distributed 
whistles,  penny-trumpets,  and  ginger-bread,  and,  lastly, 
when  the  tumult  of  their  joy  and  welcome  got  beyond 
bearing,  exclaimed  to  his  guest — "  This  is  a'  the  gude- 
wife's  fault,  captain — she  will  gie  the  bairns  a'  their  ain 
way." 

"  Me!  Lord  help  me,"  said  Ailie,  who  at  that  instant 
entered  with  the  basin  and  ewer,  "  how  can  I  help  it  1 
— I  have  naething  else  to  gie  them,  poor  things  !" 

Dinmont  then  exerted  himself,  and,  between  coax- 
ing, threats,  and  shoving,  cleared  the  room  of  all  the 
intruders,  excepting  a  boy  and  girl,  the  two  eldest  of 
the  family,  who  could,  as  he  observed,  behave  them- 
selves "distinctly."  For  the  same  reason,  but  with  less 
ceremony,  all  the  dogs  were  kicked  out,  excepting  the 
venerable  patriarchs,  old  Pepper  and  Mustard,  whom 
frequent  castigalion  and  the  advance  of  years  had  in- 
spired with  such  a  share  of  passive  hospitality,  that, 
after  mutual  explanation  and  remonstrance  in  the  shape 
of  some  growling,  they  admitted  Wasp,  who  had  hither- 
to judged  it  safe  to  keep  beneath  his  master's  chair,  to 


THE  FARM  OF  DANDIE  DINMONT.         199 

a  share  of  a  dried  wedder's  skin,  which,  with  the  wool 
uppermost  and  unshorn,  served  all  the  purposes  of  a 
Bristol  hearth-rug. 

The  active  bustle  of  the  mistress  (so  she  was  called 
in  the  kitchen,  and  the  gudewife  in  the  parlor)  had  al- 
ready signed  the  fate  of  a  couple  of  fowls,  which,  for 
want  of  time  to  dress  them  otherwise,  soon  appeared 
reeking  from  the  gridiron — or  brander,  as  Mrs.  Din- 
mont  denominated  it.  A  huge,  piece  of  cold  beef-ham, 
eggs,  butter,  cakes,  and  barley-meal  bannocks  in  plenty, 
made  up  the  entertainment,  which  was  to  be  diluted 
with  home-brewed  ale  of  excellent  quality,  and  a  case- 
bottle  of  brandy.  Few  soldiers  would  find  fault  with 
such  cheer  after  a  day's  hard  exercise,  and  a  skirmish 
to  boot;  accordingly  Brown  did  great  honor  to  the  eat- 
ables. 

A  very  small  bed-room,  but  a  very  clean  bed,  re- 
ceived the  traveler,  and  the  sheets  made  good  the 
courteous  vaunt  of  the  hostess,  "  that  they  would  be 
as  pleasant  as  he  could  find  any  gate,  for  they  were 
washed  wi'  the  Fairy-well  water,  and  bleached  on  the 
bonny  white  gowans,  and  bittled  by  Nelly  and  hersell; 
and  what  could  woman,  if  she  was  a  queen,  do  raair 
for  them  ?" 

They  indeed  rivaled  snow  in  whiteness,  and  had, 
besides,  a  pleasant  fragrance  from  the  manner  in  which 
they  had  been  bleached.  Little  Wasp,  after  licking  his 
master's  hand  to  ask  leave,  couched  himself  on  the 
coverlet  at  his  feet;  and  the  traveler's  senses  were  soon 
lost  in  grateful  oblivion. 


200  FOX  HUNT  AND  SALMON  SPEARING 


FOX   HUNT  AND   SALMON  SPEARING 

IN  LIDDESDALE. 

Out  they  sallied  from  Otterscope-scaurs,  the  farmer 
leading  the  way.  They  soon  quitted  the  little  valley, 
and  involved  themselves  among  hills  as  steep  as  they 
could  be  without  being  precipitous.  The  sides  often 
presented  gullies,  down  which,  in  the  winter  season, 
or  after  heavy  rain,  the  torrents  descended  with  great 
fury.  Some  dappled  mists  still  floated  along  the  peaks 
of  the  hills,  the  remains  of  the  morning  clouds,  for  the 
frost  had  broken  up  with  a  smart  shower.  Through 
these  fleecy  screens  were  seen  a  hundred  little  tempo- 
rary streamlets,  or  rills,  descending  the  sides  of  the 
mountains  like  silver  threads.  By  small  sheep-tracks 
along  these  steeps,  over  which  Dinmont  trotted  with  the 
most  fearless  confidence,  they  at  length  drew  near  the 
scene  of  sport,  and  began  to  see  other  men,  both  on 
horse  and  foot,  making  toward  the  place  of  rendezvous. 
Brown  was  puzzling  himself  to  conceive  how  a  fox- 
chase  could  take  place  among  hills  where  it  was  barely 
possible  for  a  pony,  accustomed  to  the  ground,  to  trot 
along,  but  where,  quitting  the  track  for  half  a  yard's 
breadth,  the  rider  might  be  either  bogged  or  precipitated 
down  the  bank.  This  wonder  was  not  diminished 
when  he  came  to  the  place  of  action. 

They  had  gradually  ascended  very  high,  and  now 
found  themselves  on  a  mountain-ridge,  overhanging  a 


IN  LIDDESDALE.  201 

glen  of  great  depth,  but  extremely  narrow.  Here  the 
sportsmen  had  collected,  with  an  apparatus  which  would 
have  shocked  a  member  of  the  Pychely  Hunt;  for,  the 
object  being  the  removal  of  a  noxious  and  destructive 
animal,  as  well  as  the  pleasures  of  the  chase,  poor  Rey- 
nard was  allowed  much  less  fair  play  than  when  pur- 
sued in  form  through  an  open  country.  The  strength 
of  his  habitation,  however,  and  the  nature  of  the  ground 
by  which  it  was  surrounded  on  all  sides,  supplied  what 
was  wanting  in  the  courtesy  of  his  pursuers.  The 
sides  of  the  glen  were  broken  banks  of  earth,  and  rocks 
of  rotten  stone,  which  sunk  sheer  down  to  the  little 
winding  stream  below,  affording  here  and  there  a  tuft 
of  scathed  brush-wood,  or  a  patch  of  furze.  Along  the 
edges  of  this  ravine,  which,  as  we  have  said,  was  very 
narrow,  but  of  profound  depth,  the  hunters  on  horse 
and  foot  ranged  themselves;  almost  every  farmer  had 
with  him  at  least  a  brace  of  large  and  fierce  greyhounds, 
of  the  race  of  those  deer-dogs  which  were  formerly 
used  in  that  country,  but  greatly  lessened  in  size  from 
being  crossed  with  the  common  breed.  The  huntsman, 
a  sort  of  provincial  officer  of  the  district,  who  receives  a 
certain  supply  of  meal,  and  a  reward  for  every  fox  he 
destroys,  was  already  at  the  bottom  of  the  dell,  whose 
echoes  thundered  to  the  chiding  of  two  or  three  brace 
of  fox  hounds.  Terriers,  including  the  whole  genera- 
tion of  Pepper  and  Mustard,  were  also  in  attendance, 
having  been  sent  forward  under  the  care  of  a  shep- 
herd. Mongrel,  whelp,  and  cur  of  low  degree,  filled 
up  the  burden  of  the  chorus.  The  spectators  on  tho 
brink  of  the  ravine,  or  glen,  held  their  greyhounds  in 
]eash  in  readiness  to  slip  them  at  the  fox,  as  soon  as  the 

VOL.  II. — 14 


202  FOX  HUNT  AND  SALMON  SPEARING 

activity  of  the  party  below  should  force  him  to  abandon 
his  cover. 

The  scene,  though  uncouth  to  the  eye  of  a  professed 
sportsman,  had  something  in  it  wildly  captivating.  The 
shifting  figures  on  the  mountain  ridge,  having  the  sky 
for  their  back-ground,  appeared  to  move  in  the  air. 
The  dogs,  impatient  of  their  restraint,  and  maddened 
with  the  baying  beneath,  sprung  hei-e  and  there,  and 
strained  at  the  slips,  which  prevented  them  from  joining 
their  companions.  Looking  down,  the  view  was  equally 
striking.  The  thin  mists  were  not  totally  dispersed  in 
the  glen,  so  that  it  was  often  through  their  gauzy  me- 
dium, that  the  eye  sought  to  discover  the  motions  of 
the  hunters  below.  Sometimes,  a  breath  of  wind  made 
the  scene  visible,  the  blue  rill  glittering  as  it  twined  it- 
self through  its  rude  and  solitary  dell.  They  then 
could  see  the  shepherds  springing  with  fearless  activity 
from  one  dangerous  point  to  another,  and  cheering  the 
dogs  on  the  scent,  the  whole  so  diminished  by  depth 
and  distance,  that  they  looked  like  pigmies.  Again  the 
mists  closed  over  them,  and  the  only  signs  of  their  con- 
tinued exertions,  are  the  halloos  of  the  men,  and  the 
clamors  of  the  hounds,  ascending,  as  it  were,  out  of  the 
bowels  of  the  earth.  When  the  fox,  thus  persecuted 
from  one  strong-hold  to  another,  was  at  length  obliged 
to  abandon  his  valley,  and  to  break  away  for  a  more 
distant  retreat,  those  who  watched  his  motions  from  the 
top,  slipped  their  greyhounds,  which,  excelling  the  fox 
in  swiftness,  and  equaling  him  in  ferocity  and  spirit, 
soon  brought  the  plunderer  to  his  life's  end. 

Without  noticing  the  occupations  of  an  intervening 
day  or  two,  which,  as   they  consisted  of  the  ordinary 


IN  LIDDESDALE.  203 

sylvan  amusements  of  shooting  and  coursing,  have  no- 
thing sufficiently  interesting  to  detain  the  reader,  we 
pass  to  one  in  some  degree  peculiar  to  Scotland,  which 
may  be  called  a  sort  of  salmon-hunting.  This  chase, 
in  which  the  fish  is  pursued  and  struck  with  barbed 
spears,  or  a  sort  of  long-shafted  trident,  called  a  waster,* 
is  much  practised  at  the  mouth  of  the  Esk,  and  in  the 
other  salmon  rivers  in  Scotland.  The  sport  is  followed 
by  day  and  night,  but  most  commonly  in  the  latter, 
when  the  fish  are  discovered  by  means  of  torches  or 
fire-grates,  filled  with  blazing  fragments  of  tar-barrels, 
wliich  shed  a  strong  though  partial  light  upon  the  water. 
On  the  present  occasion,  the  principal  party  were  em- 
barked in  a  crazy  boat,  upon  a  part  of  the  river  which 
was  enlarged  and  deepened  by  the  restraint  of  a  mill- 
wear,  while  others,  like  the  ancient  Bacchanals  in  their 
gambols,  ran  along  the  banks,  brandishing  their  torches 
and  spears,  and  pursuing  the  salmon,  some  of  which 
endeavored  to  escape  up  the  stream,  while  others,  shroud- 
ing themselves  under  the  roots  of  trees,  fragments  of 
stones,  and  large  rocks,  attempted  to  conceal  themselves 
from  the  researches  of  the  fishermen.  These,  the  party 
in  the  6oat  detected  by  the  slightest  indications ;  the 
twinkling  of  a  fin,  the  rising  of  an  air-bell,  was  suffi- 
cient to  point  out  to  these  adroit  sportsmen  in  what  di- 
rection to  use  their  weapons. 

The  scene  was  inexpressibly  animating  to  those  ac- 
customed to  it;  but  as  Brown  was  not  practised  to  use 

*  Or  Icislcr.  The  long  sponr  is  used  for  striking;  but  there  is 
a  shorter,  which  is  cast  from  tlie  hand,  and  with  which  an  expe- 
rienced sportsman  hits  the  fish  witli  singular  dexterity. 


204        FOX  HUNT  AND  SALMON  SPEARING 

the  spear,  he  soon  tired  of  making  efforts,  which  were 
attended  with  no  other  consequences  than  jarring  his 
arms  against  the  rocks  at  tlie  bottom  of  the  river,  upon 
which,  instead  of  the  devoted  sahnon,  he  often  bestowed 
his  blow.  Nor  did  he  relish,  though  he  concealed  feel- 
ings which  would  not  have  been  understood,  being  quite 
so  near  the  agonies  of  the  expiring  salmon,  as  they  lay 
flapping  about  in  the  boat,  which  they  moistened  with 
their  blood.  He  therefore  requested  to  be  put  ashore, 
and,  from  the  top  of  a  heugh,  or  broken  bank,  enjoyed 
the  scene  much  more  to  his  satisfaction.  Often  he 
thought  of  his  friend  Dudley  the  artist,  when  he  ob- 
served the  effect  produced  by  the  strong  red  glare  on 
the  romantic  banks  under  which  the  boat  glided.  Now 
the  light  diminished  to  a  distant  star  that  seemed  to 
twinkle  on  the  waters,  like  those  which,  according  to 
the  legends  of  the  country,  the  water-kelpy  sends  for 
the  purpose  of  indicating  the  watery  grave  of  his  vic- 
tims. Then  it  advanced  nearer,  brightening  and  enlarg- 
ing as  it  again  approached,  till  the  broad,  flickering  flame 
rendered  bank,  and  rock,  and  tree,  visible  as  it  passed, 
tinging  them  with  its  own  red  glare  of  dusky  light,  and 
resigning  them  gradually  to  darkness,  or  to  pale  moon- 
light, as  it  receded.  By  this  light,  also,  were  seen  the 
figures  in  the  boat,  now  holding  high  their  weapons, 
now  stooping  to  strike,  now  standing  upright,  bronzed, 
by  the  same  red  glare,  into  a  color  which  might  have 
befitted  the  regions  of  Pandemonium. 

The  sportsmen  returned  loaded  with  fish,  upwards 
of  one  hundred  salmon  having  been  killed  within  the 
range  of  their  sport.  The  best  were  selected  for  the 
use  of  the  principal  farmers,  the  others  divided  among 


,1!' 


'..I 


4  :•' ■ 


IN  LIDDESDALE.  205 

their  shepherds,  cottars,  dependents,  and  others  of  infe- 
rior rank  who  attended.  These  fish,  dried  in  the  turf- 
smoke  of  their  cabins,  or  shealinffs,  formed  a  savorv 
addition  to  the  mess  of  potatoes,  mixed  with  onions, 
which  was  the  principal  part  of  their  winter  food.  In 
the  meanwhile,  a  liberal  distribution  of  ale  and  whisky 
was  made  among  them,  besides  what  was  called  a  kettle 
of  fish — two  or  three  salmon,  namely,  plunged  into  a 
cauldron,  and  boiled  for  their  supper. 

An  otter-hunt  the  next  day,  and  a  badger-baiting  the 
day  after,  consumed  the  time  merrily.  I  hope  our 
traveler  will  not  sink  in  the  reader's  estimation,  sports- 
man though  he  may  be,  when  I  inform  him,  that  on 
this  last  occasion,  after  young  Pepper  had  lost  a  forefoot, 
and  Mustard  the  second  had  been  nearly  throtded,  he 
begged,  as  a  particular  and  personal  favor  of  Mr.  Din- 
mont,  that  the  poor  badger,  who  made  so  gallant  a  de- 
fence, should  be  permitted  to  retire  to  his  earth  without 
farther  molestation. 

The  farmer,  who  would  probably  have  treated  this 
request  with  supreme  contempt  had  it  come  from  any 
other  person,  was  contented,  in  Brown's  case,  to  ex- 
press the  utter  extremity  of  his  wonder.  "  Weel,"  he 
said,  "that's  queer  aneugh! — But  since  ye  take  his 
part,  deil  a  tyke  shall  meddle  wi'  him  mair  in  my  day 
— we'll  e'en  mark  him,  and  ca'  him  the  Captain's  brock  ; 
and  I'm  sure  I'm  glad  I  can  do  ony  thing  to  oblige  you 
—but.  Lord  save  us,  to  care  about  a  brock!" 

After  a  week  spent  in  rural  sport,  and  distinguished 
by  the  most  frank  attentions  on  the  part  of  his  honest 
landlord.  Brown  bade  adieu  to  the  banks  of  the  Liddel, 
and   the   hospitality  of  Charlies-hope.     The  children, 


206  FOX  HUNT  AND  SALMON  SPEARING 

with  all  of  whom  he  had  now  become  an  intimate  and 
a  favorite,  roared  manfully  in  full  chorus  at  his  depart- 
ure, and  he  was  obliged  to  promise  twenty  times,  that 
he  would  soon  return  and  play  over  all  their  favorite 
tunes  upon  the  flageolet  till  they  had  got  them  by  heart. 
"  Come  back  again,  Captain,"  said  one  little  sturdy 
fellow,  "  and  Jenny  will  be  your  wife."  Jenny  was 
about  eleven  years  old — she  ran  and  hid  herself  behind 
her  mammy. 

"  Captain,  come  back,"  said  a  little  fat  roll-about 
girl  of  six,  holding  her  mouth  up  to  be  kissed;  "and 
I'll  be  your  wife  my  ainsell." 

They  must  be  of  harder  mould  than  I,  thought 
Brown,  who  could  part  from  so  many  kind  hearts  with 
indifference.  The  good  dame,  too,  with  matron  mo- 
desty, and  an  affectionate  simplicity  that  marked  the 
olden  time,  offered  her  cheek  to  the  departing  guest — 
'*  It's  little  the  like  of  us  can  do,"  she  said,  "  little  in- 
deed— but  yet — if  there  were  but  ony  thing" 

"  Now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Dinmont,  you  imbolden  me 
to  make  a  request — would  you  but  have  the  kindness 
to  weave  me,  or  work  me,  just  such  a  gray  plaid  as 
the  goodman  wears!"  He  had  learned  the  language 
and  feelings  of  the  country,  even  during  the  short  time 
of  his  residence,  and  was  aware  of  the  pleasure  the 
request  would  confer. 

"  A  tait  o'  woo'  would  be  scarce  amang  us,"  said 
the  goodwife  brightening,  "  if  ye  shouldna  hae  that, 
and  as  good  a  tweel  as  ever  cam  aff  a  pirn.  I'll  speak 
to  Johnnie  Goodsire,  the  weaver  at  the  Castletown,  the 
morn.     Fare  ye  weel,  sir! — and  may  ye   be  just  as 


IN  LIDDESDALE.  207 

happy  yoursell  as  ye  like  to  see  a'  body  else — and  that 
would  be  a  sair  wish  to  some  folk." 

I  must  not  omit  to  mention,  that  our  traveler  left  his 
trusty  attendant  Wasp  to  be  a  guest  at  Charlieshope  for 
a  season.  He  foresaw  that  he  might  prove  a  trouble- 
some attendant  in  the  event  of  his  being  in  any  situation 
where  secrecy  and  concealment  might  be  necessary. 
He  was  therefore  consigned  to  the  care  of  the  eldest 
boy,  who  promised,  in  the  words  of  the  old  song,  that 
he  should  have 

"A  bit  of  his  supper,  a  bit  of  his  bed," 

and  that  he  should  be  engaged  in  none  of  those  perilous 
pastimes  in  which  the  race  of  Mustard  and  Pepper  had 
suffered  frequent  mutilation.  Brown  now  prepared  for 
his  journey,  having  taken  a  temporary  farewell  of  his 
trusty  little  companion. 

There  is  an  odd  prejudice  in  these  hills  in  favor  of 
riding.  Every  farmer  rides  well,  and  rides  the  whole 
day.  Probably  the  extent  of  their  large  pasture  farms, 
and  the  necessity  of  surveying  them  rapidly,  first  intro- 
duced this  custom  ;  or  a  very  zealous  antiquary  m.ight 
derive  it  from  the  times  of  the  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel, 
when  twenty  thousand  horsemen  assembled  at  the  light 
of  the  beacon-fires.  But  the  truth  is  undeniable  ;  they 
like  to  be  on  horseback,  and  can  be  with  difficulty  con- 
vinced that  any  one  chooses  walking  from  other  motives 
than  those  of  convenience  or  necessity.  Accordingly, 
Dinmont  insisted  upon  mounting  his  guest,  and  accom- 
panying him  on  horseback  as  far  as  the  nearest  town  in 
Dumfries-shire,  where  he  had  directed  his  baggage  to 
be  sent. 


208        NIGHT  ATTACK  OF  THE  SMUGGLERS 

When  they  were  about  finally  to  part,  the  good  far- 
mer held  Brown  long  by  the  hand,  and  at  length  said, 
"  Captain,  the  woo's  sae  weel  up  the  year  that  it's  paid 
a'  the  rent,  and  we  have  naething  to  do  wi'  the  rest  o' 
the  siller  when  Ailie  has  had  her  new  gown,  and  the 
bairns  their  bits  o'  duds — Now  I  was  thinking  of  some 
safe  hand  to  put  it  into,  for  it's  ower  muckle  to  ware  on 
brandy  and  sugar — now  I  have  heard  that  you  army 
gentlemen  can  sometimes  buy  yoursells  up  a  step  ;  and 
if  a  hundred  or  twa  would  help  ye  on  such  an  occasion, 
the  bit  scrape  o'  your  pen  would  be  as  good  to  me  as 
the  siller,  and  ye  might  just  take  yere  ain  time  o'  set- 
tling it — it  wad  be  a  great  convenience  to  mC'."  Brown, 
Avho  felt  the  full  delicacy  that  wished  to  disguise  the 
conferring  an  obligation  under  the  show  of  asking  a 
favor,  thanked  his  grateful  friend  most  heartily,  and  as- 
sured him  he  would  have  recourse  to  his  purse,  without 
scruple,  should  circumstances  ever  render  it  convenient 
for  him.  And  thus  they  parted  with  many  expressions 
of  mutual  regard. 


NIGHT  ATTACK  OF  THE  SMUGGLERS 


AT  PORTANFERRY. 


Bertram's  first  heavy  sleep  passed  away  long  before 
midnight,  nor  could  he  again  recover  that  state  of  ob- 
livion.    Added  to  the  uncertain  and  uncomfortable  state 


AT  PORTANFERRY.  209 

of  his  mind,  his  body  felt  feverish  and  oppressed. 
This  was  chiefly  owing  to  the  close  and  confined  air  of 
the  small  apartment  in  which  they  slept.  After  en- 
during for  some  time  the  broiling  and  suffocating  feel- 
ing attendant  upon  such  an  atmosphere,  he  rose  to  en- 
deavor to  open  the  window  of  the  apartment,  and  thus 
to  procure  a  change  of  air.  Alas !  the  first  trial  re- 
minded him  that  he  was  in  jail,  and  that  the  building 
being  contrived  for  security,  not  comfort,  the  means  of 
procuring  fresh  air  were  not  left  at  the  disposal  of  the 
wretched  inhabitants. 

Disappointed  in  this  attempt,  he  stood  by  the  un- 
manageable window  for  some  time.  liittle  Wasp, 
though  oppressed  with  the  fatigue  of  his  journey  on  the 
preceding  day,  crept  out  of  bed  after  his  master,  and 
stood  by  him  rubbing  his  shaggy  coat  against  his  legs, 
and  expressing,  by  a  murmuring  sound,  the  delight 
which  he  felt  at  being  restored  to  him.  Thus  accom- 
panied, and  waiting  until  the  feverish  feeling  which  at 
present  agitated  his  blood  should  subside  into  a  desire 
for  warmth  and  slumber,  Bertram  remained  for  some 
time  looking  out  upon  the  sea. 

The  tide  was  now  nearly  full,  and  dashed  hoarse  and 
near  below  the  base  of  the  building.  Now  and  then  a 
large  wave  reached  even  the  barrier  or  bulwark  which 
defended  the  foundation  of  the  house,  and  was  flung 
upon  it  with  greater  force  and  noise  than  those  Avhicli 
only  broke  upon  the  sand.  Far  in  the  distance,  under 
the  indistinct  light  of  a  hazy  and  often  overclouded 
moon,  the  ocean  rolled  its  multitudinous  complication 
of  waves,  crossing,  bursting,  and  mingling  with  each 
other. 


210       NIGHT  ATTACK  OF  THE  SMUGGLERS 

"A  wild  and  dim  spectacle,"  said  Bertram  to  himself, 
"like  those  crossing  tides  of  fate  which  have  tossed  me 
about  the  world  from  my  infancy  upwards.  When 
will  this  uncertainty  cease,  and  how  soon  shall  I  be 
permitted  to  look  out  for  a  tranquil  home,  where  I  may 
cultivate  in  quiet,  and  without  dread  and  perplexity, 
those  arts  of  peace  from  which  my  cares  have  been 
hitherto  so  forcibly  diverted?  The  ear  of  Fancy,  it  is 
said,  can  discover  the  voice  of  sea-nymphs  and  tritons 
amid  the  bursting  murmurs  of  the  ocean;  would  that  I 
could  do  so,  and  that  some  siren  or  Proteus  would  arise 
from  these  billows,  to  unriddle  for  me  the  strange  maze 
of  fate  in  which  I  am  so  deeply  entangled! — Happy 
friend!"  he  said,  looking  at  the  bed  where  Dinmont  had 
deposited  his  bulky  person,  "thy  cares  are  confined  to 
the  narrow  round  of  a  healthy  and  thriving  occupation ! 
Thou  canst  lay  them  aside  at  pleasure,  and  enjoy  the 
deep  repose  of  body  and  mind  which  wholesome  labor 
has  prepared  for  thee  !" 

At  this  moment  his  reflections  were  broken  by  little 
Wasp,  who,  attempting  to  spring  up  against  the  win- 
dow, began  to  yelp  and  bark  most  furiously.  The 
sounds  reached  Dinmont's  ears,  but  without  dissipating 
the  illusion  which  had  transported  him  from  this  wretch- 
ed apartment  to  the  free  air  of  his  own  green  hills. 
"  Hoy,  Yarrow,  man — far  yaud — far  yaud,"  he  mut- 
tered between  his  teeth,  imagining,  doubtless,  that  he 
was  caUing  to  his  sheep-dog,  and  hounding  him  in  shep- 
herds' phrase  against  some  intruders  on  the  grazing. 
The  continued  barking  of  the  terrier  within  was  an- 
swered by  the  angry  challenge  of  the  mastiff  in  the 
court-yard,  which   had  for  a  long  time  been  silent,  ex- 


AT  rORTANFERRY.  211 

ccpting  only  an  occasional  short  and  deep  note,  uttered 
when  the  moon  shone  suddenly  from  among  the  clouds. 
Now,  his  clamor  was  continued  and  furious,  and  seem- 
ed to  be  excited  by  some  disturbance  distinct  from  the 
barking  of  AVasp,  which  had  first  given  him  the  alarm, 
and  which,  with  much  trouble,  his  master  had  contrived 
to  still  into  an  angry  note  of  low  growling. 

At  last  Bertram,  whose  attention  was  now  fully 
awakened,  conceived  that  he  saw  a  boat  upon  the  sea, 
and  heard  in  good  earnest  the  sound  of  oars  and  of 
human  voices,  mingling  with  the  dash  of  the  billows. 
Some  benighted  fishermen,  he  thought,  or  perhaps  some 
of  the  desperate  traders  from  the  Isle  of  Man.  They 
are  very  hardy,  however,  to  approach  so  near  the  Cus- 
tom-house, where  there  must  be  sentinels.  It  is  a  large 
boat,  like  a  long-boat,  and  full  of  people ;  perhaps  it 
belongs  to  the  revenue  service. — Bertram  was  confirmed 
in  this  last  opinion,  by  observing  that  the  boat  made  for 
a  little  quay  which  ran  into  the  sea  behind  the  Custom- 
house, and,  jumping  ashore  one  after  another,  the  crew, 
to  the  number  of  twenty  hands,  glided  secretly  up  a 
small  lane  which  divided  the  Custom-house  from  the 
Bridewell,  and  disappeared  from  his  sight,  leaving  only 
two  persons  to  take  care  of  the  boat. ' 

The  dash  of  these  men's  oars  at  first,  and  latterly 
the  suppressed  sounds  of  their  voices,  had  excited  the 
wrath  of  the  wakeful  sentinel  in  the  court-yard,  who 
now  exalted  his  deep  voice  into  such  a  horrid  and  con- 
tinuous din,  that  it  awakened  his  brute  master,  as  savage 
a  ban-dog  as  himself. 

These  latter  sounds,  with  which  we  have  made  the 
reader  acquainted,  had  their  origin  in  front  of  the  house, 


212       NIGHT  ATTACK  OF  THE  SMUGGLERS 

and  were  consequently  imperfectly  heard  by  Bertram, 
whose  apartment  looked  from  the  back  part  of  the 
building  upon  the  sea.  He  heard,  however,  a  stir  and 
tumult  in  the  house,  which  did  not  seem  to  accord  with 
the  stern  seclusion  of  a  prison  at  the  hour  of  midnight, 
and,  connecting  them  with  the  arrival  of  an  armed  boat 
at  that  dead  hour,  could  not  but  suppose  that  something 
extraordinary  was  about  to  take  place.  In  this  belief 
he  shook  Dinmont  by  the  shoulder — "Eh! — Ay  ! — 
Oh  ! — Ailie,  woman  it's  no  time  to  get  up  yet,"  groaned 
the  sleeping  man  of  the  mountains.  More  roughly 
shaken,  however,  he  gathered  himself  up,  shook  his 
ears,  and  asked,  "  In  the  name  of  Providence  what's 
the  matter?" 

"  That  I  can't  tell  you,"  replied  Bertram ;  "  but  either 
the  place  is  on  fire,  or  some  extraordinary  thing  is  about 
to  happen.  Are  you  not  sensible  of  a  smell  of  fire? 
Do  you  not  hear  what  a  noise  there  is  of  clashing  doors 
within  the  house,  and  of  hoarse  voices,  murmurs,  and 
distant  shouts  on  the  outside  ?  Upon  my  word,  I 
believe  something  very  extraordinary  has  taken  place 
— Get  up,  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  and  let  us  be  on  our 
guard." 

Dinmont  rose  at  the  idea  of  danger,  as  intrepid  and 
undismayed  as  any  of  his  ancestors  when  the  beacon- 
light  was  kindled.  "  Odd,  Captain,  this  is  a  queer  place  ! 
they  winna  let  ye  out  in  the  day,  and  they  winna  let  ye 
sleep  in  the  night.  Deil,  but  it  wad  break  my  heart  in 
a  fortnight.  But,  what  a  racket  they're  making  now  ! — 
Odd,  I  wish  we  had  some  light. — Wasp — Wasp,  whisht, 
hinny— whisht,  my  bonny  man,  and  let's  hear  what 
they're  doing. — Deil's  in  ye,  will  ye  whisht?" 


AT  PORTANFERRY.  213 

They  sought  in  vain  among  the  embers  the  means  of 
lighting  their  candle,  and  the  noise  without  still  con- 
tinued. Dinmont,  in  his  turn,  had  recourse  to  the  win- 
dow— "Captain!  come  here. — Odd,  they  hae  broken 
the  Custom-house!" 

Bertram  hastened  to  the  window,  and  plainly  saw  a 
miscellaneous  crowd  of  smugglers,  and  blackguards  of 
ditferent  descriptions,  some  carrying  lighted  torches, 
others  bearing  packages  and  barrels  down  the  lane  to 
the  boat  that  was  lying  at  the  quay,  to  which  two  or 
three  other  fisher-boats  were  now  brought  round.  They 
were  loading  each  of  these  in  their  turn,  and  one  or 
two  had  already  put  off  to  seaward.  "This  speaks  for 
itself,"  said  Bertram;  "but  I  fear  something  worse  has 
happened.  Do  you  perceive  a  strong  smell  of  smoke, 
or  is  it  my  fancy?" 

"Fancy?"  answered  Dinmont,  "there's  a  reek  like  a 
killogie.  Odd,  if  they  burn  the  Custom-house,  it  will 
catch  here,  and  we'll  lunt  like  a  tar-barrel  a'  thegither. — 
Eh!  it  wad  be  fearsome  to  be  burnt  alive  for  naething, 
like  as  if  ane  had  been  a  warlock! — MacGuffog,  hear 
ye!" — roaring  at  the  top  of  his  voice;  "an  ye  wad  ever 
hae  a  haill  bane  in  your  skin,  let's  out,  man  !  let's  out!" 

The  fire  began  now  to  rise  high,  and  thick  clouds  of 
smoke  rolled  past  the  window,  at  which  Bertram  and 
Dinmont  were  stationed.  Sometimes,  as  the  wind 
pleased,  tiie  dim  shroud  of  vapor  hid  everything  from 
their  sight;  sometimes  a  red  glare  illuminated  both  land 
and  sea,  and  shone  full  on  the  stern  and  fierce  figures, 
who,  wild  with  ferocious  activity,  were  engaged  in  load- 
ing the  boats.  The  fire  was  at  length  triumphant,  and 
spouted   in  jets  of  fiame  out  at  each   window  of  the 


214       NIGHT  ATTACK  OF  THE  SMUGGLERS 

burning  building,  while  huge  flakes  of  flaming  materials 
came  driving  on  the  wind  against  the  adjoining  prison, 
and  rolling  a  dark  canopy  of  smoke  over  all  the  neigh- 
borhood. The  shouts  of  a  furious  mob  resounded  far 
and  wide;  for  the  smugglers,  in  their  triumph,  were 
joined  by  all  the  rabble  of  the  little  town  and  neighbor- 
hood, now  aroused,  and  in  complete  agitation,  notwith- 
standing the  lateness  of  the  hour;  some  from  interest  in 
the  free  trade,  and  most  from  the  general  love  of  mis- 
chief and  tumult,  natural  to  a  vulgar  populace. 

Bertram  began  to  be  seriously  anxious  for  their  fate. 
There  was  no  stir  in  the  house ;  it  seemed  as  if  the 
jailor  had  deserted  his  charge,  and  left  the  prison  with 
its  wretched  inhabitants  to  the  mercy  of  the  conflagra- 
tion which  was  spreading  towards  them.  In  the  mean- 
time, a  new  and  fierce  attack  was  heard  upon  the  outer 
gate  of  the  Correction-house,  which,  battered  with 
sledge-hammers  and  crows,  was  soon  forced.  The 
keeper,  as  great  a  coward  as  a  bully,  with  his  more 
ferocious  wife,  had  fled;  their  servants  readily  surren- 
dered the  keys.  The  liberated  prisoners,  celebrating 
their  deliverance  with  the  wildest  yells  of  joy,  mingled 
among  the  mob  which  had  given  them  freedom. 

In  the  midst  of  the  confusion  that  ensued,  three  or 
four  of  the  principal  smugglers  hurried  to  the  apartment 
of  Bertram  with  lighted  torches,  and  armed  with  cutlasses 
and  pistols — "  Der  deyvil,"  said  the  leader,  "here's 
our  mark!"  and  two  of  them  seized  on  Bertram  ;  but 
one  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  Make  no  resistance  till  you 
are  in  the  street."  The  same  individual  found  an  instant 
to  say  to  Dinmont — "  Follow  your  friend,  and  help 
when  you  see  the  time  come." 


AT  PORTANFERRY.  215 

In  the  hurry  of  the  moment,  Dinmont  obeyed  and 
followed  close.  The  two  smugglers  dragged  Bertram 
along  the  passage,  down  stairs,  through  the  court-yard, 
now  illuminated  by  the  glare  of  fire,  and  into  the  narrow 
street  to  which  the  gate  opened,  where,  in  the  confu- 
sion, the  gang  were  necessarily  in  some  degree  separated 
from  each  other.  A  rapid  noise,  as  of  a  body  of  horse 
advancing,  seemed  to  add  to  the  disturbance.  "  Hagel 
and  wetter,  what  is  that?"  said  the  leader;  "keep  to- 
gether, kinder,  look  to  the  prisoner." — But  in  spite  of 
his  charge,  the  two  who  held  Bertram  were  the  last  of 
the  party. 

The  sounds  and  signs  of  violence  were  heard  in  front. 
The  press  became  furiously  agitated,  while  some  en- 
deavored to  defend  themselves,  others  to  escape;  shots 
were  fired,  and  the  glittering  broad-swords  of  the  dra- 
goons began  to  appear  flashing  above  the  heads  of  the 
rioters.  "  Now,"  said  the  warning  whisper  of  the  man 
who  held  Bertram's  left  arm,  the  same  who  had  spoken 
before,  "shake  off  that  fellow,  and  follow  me." 

Bertram,  exerting  his  strength  suddenly  and  efl'ectu- 
ally,  easily  burst  from  the  grasp  of  the  man  who  held 
his  collar  on  the  right  side.  The  fellow  attempted  to 
draw  a  pistol,  but  was  prostrated  by  a  blow  of  Din- 
mont's  fist,  which  an  ox  could  hardly  have  received 
without  the  same  humiliation.  "  Follow  me  quick," 
said  the  friendly  partisan,  and  dived  through  a  very 
narrow  and  dirty  lane  which  led  from  the  main  street. 

In  the  meantime,  Bertram  followed  his  guide,  and 
was  in  his  turn  followed  by  Dinmont.  The  shouts  of 
the  mob,  the  trampling  of  the  horses,  the  dropping  pistol- 


216       NIGHT  ATTACK  OF  THE  SMUGGLERS 

shots,  sunk  more  and  more  faintly  upon  their  ears ; 
when  at  the  end  of  the  dark  lane,  they  found  a  post- 
chaise  with  four  horses.  "Are  you  here,  in  God's 
name?"  said  the  guide  to  the  postillion  who  drove  the 
leaders. 

"  Ay,  troth  am  I,"  answered  Jock  Jabos, "  and  I  wish 
I  were  ony  gate  else."- 

"  Open  the  carriage,  then — You,  gentlemen,  get  into 
it — in  a  short  time  you'll  be  in  a  place  of  safety." 

Bertram,  resolving  to  be  passive  in  the  hands  of  a 
person  who  had  just  rendered  him  such  a  disdnguished 
piece  of  service,  got  into  tlie  chaise  as  directed.  Din- 
mont  followed;  Wasp,  who  had  kept  close  by  them, 
sprung  in  at  the  same  time,  and  the  carriage  drove  off 
very  fast.  "  Have  a  care  o'  me,"  said  Dinmont,  "  but 
this  is  the  queerest  thing  yet ! — Odd,  I  trust  they'll  no 
coup  us — and  then  what's  to  come  o'  Dumple? — I 
would  rather  be  on  his  back  than  in  the  Deuke's  coach, 
God  bless  him." 

Bertram  observed,  that  they  could  not  go  at  that 
rapid  rate  to  any  very  great  distance  without  changing 
horses,  and  that  they  might  insist  upon  remaining  till 
day-light  at  the  first  inn  they  stopped  at,  or  at  least 
upon  being  made  acquainted  with  the  purpose  and  ter- 
mination of  their  journey,  and  Mr.  Dinmont  might 
there  give  directions  about  his  faithful  horse,  which 
would  probably  be  safe  at  the  stables  where  he  had  left 
him. — "  Aweel,  aweel,  e'en  say  be  it  for  Dandie. — Odd, 
if  we  were  ance  out  o'  this  trindling  kist  o'  a  thing,  I 
am  thinking  they  wad  find  it  hard  wark  to  gar  us  gang 
ony  gate  but  where  we  liked  oursells," 

While  he  thus  spoke,  the  carriage  making  a  sudden 


AT  PORTANFERRY.  217 

turn,  showed  them,  through  the  left  window,  the  vil- 
lage at  some  distance,  still  widely  beaconed  by  the  fire, 
which,  having  reached  a  store-house  wherein  spirits 
were  deposited,  now  rose  high  into  the  air,  a  wavering 
column  of  brilliant  light. 


HIGH   JINKS- 

A  SCOTTISH  LAWYER  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

The  period  was  near  the  end  of  the  American  war. 
Tiie  desire  of  room,  of  air,  and  of  decent  accommoda- 
tion, had  not  as  yet  made  very  much  progress  in  the 
capital  of  Scotland.  Some  efforts  had  been  made  on 
the  south  side  of  the  town  towards  building  houses 
inthin  themselves,  as  they  are  emphatically  termed ; 
and  the  New  Town  on  the  North,  since  so  much  ex- 
tended, was  then  just  commenced.  But  the  great  bulk 
of  the  better  classes,  and  particularly  those  connected 
with  the  law,  still  lived  in  flats  or  dungeons  of  the  Old 
Town.  The  manners  also  of  some  of  the  veterans  of 
the  law  had  not  admitted  innovation.  One  or  two  emi- 
nent lawyers  still  saw  their  clients  in  taverns,  as  was 
the  general  custom  fifty  years  before;  and  aUhough  their 
habits  were  already  considered  as  old-fashioned  by  the 
younger  barristers,  yet  the  custom  of  mixing  wine  and 
revelry  with  serious  business  was  still  maintained  by 
those  senior  counselors,  who  loved  the  old  road,  either 
VOL.  II. — 15 


218  HIGH  JINKS 

because  it  was  such,  or  because  they  had  got  too  well 
used  to  it  to  travel  any  other.  Among  those  praisers 
of  the  past  time,  who  with  ostentatious  obstinacy  af- 
fected the  manners  of  a  former  generation,  was  Paulus 
Pleydell,  Esq.,  otherwise  a  good  scholar,  an  excellent 
lawyer,  and  a  worthy  man. 

Under  the  guidance  of  his  trusty  attendant,  Colonel 
Mannering,  after  threading  a  dark  lane  or  two,  reached 
the  High-street,  then  clanging  with  the  voices  of  oyster- 
women  and  the  bells  of  pie-men ;  for  it  had,  as  his 
guide  assured  him,  just  "  chappit  eight  upon  the  Tron." 
It  was  long  since  Mannering  had  been  in  the  street  of  a 
crowded  metropolis,  which,  with  its  noise  and  clamor, 
its  sounds  of  trade,  of  revelry,  and  of  license,  its  va- 
riety of  lights,  and  the  eternally  changing  bustle  of  its 
hundred  groups,  offers,  by  night  especially,  a  spectacle, 
which,  though  composed  of  the  most  vulgar  materials 
when  they  are  separately  considered,  has,  when  they 
are  combined,  a  striking  and  powerful  effect  on  the 
imagination.  The  extraordinary  height  of  the  houses 
was  marked  by  lights,  which,  glimmering  irregularly 
along  their  front,  ascended  so  high  among  the  attics, 
that  they  seemed  at  length  to  twinkle  in  the  middle 
sky.  This  coup  (Vceil,  which  still  subsists  in  a  certain 
degree,  was  then  more  imposing,  owing  to  the  uninter- 
rupted range  of  buildings  on  each  side,  which,  broken 
only  at  the  space  where  the  North  Bridge  joins  the 
main  street,  formed  a  superb  and  uniform  Place,  ex- 
tending from  the  front  of  the  Luckenbooths  to  the  head 
of  the  Canongate,  and  corresponding  in  breadth  and 
length  to  the  uncommon  height  of  the  buildings  on  either 
side. 


A  SCOTTISH  LAWYER  OF  TilE  OLD  SCHOOL.  219 

Mannering  had  not  much  time  to  look  and  to  admire. 
His  conductor  hurried  him  across  this  striking  scene, 
and  suddenly  dived  with  him  into  a  very  steep  paved 
lane.  Turning  to  the  right,  they  entered  a  scale  stair- 
case, as  it  is  called,  the  state  of  wliich,  so  far  as  it  could 
be  judged  of  by  one  of  his  senses,  annoyed  Mannering's 
delicacy  not  a  little.  Wlien  they  had  ascended  cautiously 
to  a  considerable  height  they  heard  a  heavy  rap  at  a  door, 
still  two  stories  above  them.  The  door  opened,  and 
immediately  ensued  the  sharp  and  worrying  bark  of  a 
dog,  the  squalling  of  a  woman,  the  screams  of  an  as- 
saulted cat,  and  the  hoarse  voice  of  a  man,  who  cried 
in  a  most  imperative  tone,  "  Will  ye,  Mustard  !  Will 
ye  ?  down,  sir,  down  !" 

"Lord  preserve  us  !"  said  the  female  voice,  "  an  he 
had  worried  our  cat,  Mr.  Pleydell  would  ne'er  hae  for- 
gi'en  me  !" 

"Aweel,  my  doo,  the  cat's  no  a  preen  the  waur — So 
he  's  no  in.  ye  say  ?" 

"  Na,  Mr.  Pleydell's  ne'er  in  the  house  on  Saturday 
at  e'en,"  answered  the  female  voice. 

"And  the  morn's  Sabbath  tog,"  said  the  querist;  "I 
dinna  ken  what  will  be  done." 

By  this  time  Mannering  appeared,  and  found  a  tall 
strong  countryman,  clad  in  a  coat  of  pepper-and-salt 
colored  mixture,  with  huge  metal  buttons,  a  glazed  hat 
and  boots,  and  a  large  horse-whip  beneath  his  arm,  in 
colloquy  with  a  slip-shod  damsel,  who  had  in  one  hand 
the  lock  of  the  door,  and  in  the  other  a  pail  of  whiting 
or  camstane,  as  it  is  called,  mixed  with  water — a  cir- 
cumstance which  indicates  Saturday  night  in  Edin- 
burgh. 


220  IIIOII  JINKS — 

"  So  Mr.  Pleydell  is  not  at  home,  my  good  girl  ?" 
said  Mannering. 

"  Ay,  sir,  he  's  at  hame,  but  he  's  no  in  the  house  ; 
he  's  aye  out  on  Saturday  at  e'en." 

"  But,  my  good  girl,  I  am  a  stranger,  and  my  business 
express — Will  you  tell  me  where  I  can  find  him  ?" 

"  His  honor,"  said  the  chairman,  "  will  be  at  Cleri- 
hugh's  about  this  time. — Ilersell  could  hae  tell'd  ye 
that,  but  she  thought  ye  wanted  to  see  his  house." 

"Well,  then,  show  me  to  this  tavern — I  suppose  he 
will  see  me,  as  I  come  on  business  of  some  conse- 
quence ?" 

"I  dinna  ken,  sir,"  said  the  girl,  "he  disna  like  to 
be  disturbed  on  Saturdays  wi'  business — but  he's  aye 
civil  to  strangers." 

"I'll  gang  to  the  tavern  too,"  said  our  friend  Din- 
mont,  "  for  I  am  a  stranger  also,  and  on  business  e'en  sic 
like." 

"  Na,"  said  the  hand-maiden,  "  an  he  see  the  gentle- 
man, he'll  see  tlie  simple  body  too — but  dinna  say  it 
was-  me  sent  ye  there  !" 

"Atweel,  I  am  a  simple  body,  that's  true,  hinny,  but 
I  am  no  come  to  steal  ony  o'  his  skeel  for  naething," 
said  the  farmer  in  his  honest  pride,  and  strutted  away 
down  stairs  followed  by  Mannering  and  the  cadie. 
Mannering  could  not  help  admiring  the  determined 
stride  with  which  the  stranger  who  preceded  them  di- 
vided the  press,  shouldering  from  him,  by  the  mere 
weight  and  impetus  of  his  motion,  both  drunk  and  sober 
passengers.  "He'll  be  a  Teviotdale  tup  tat  ane,"  said 
the  chairman,  "  tal's  for  keeping  ta  crown  o'  ta  cause- 


A  SCOTTISH  LAWYER  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL.  221 

way  tat  gate — he'll  no  gang  far  or  he'll  get  somebody 
to  bell  ta  cat  wi'  him." 

His  shrewd  augury,  however,  was  not  fulfilled. 
Those  who  recoiled  from  the  colossal  weight  of  Din- 
mont,  on  looking  up  at  his  size  and  strengtli,  apparently 
judged  him  too  heavy  metal  to  be  rashly  encountered, 
and  suffered  him  to  pursue  his  course  unchallenged. 
Following  in  the  wake  of  this  first-rate,  Mannering  pro- 
ceeded till  the  farmer  made  a  pause,  and,  looking  back 
to  the  chairman,  said,  "I'm  thinking  this  will  be  the 
close,  friend." 

"Ay,  ay,"  replied  Donald,  "  tat's  ta  close." 
Dinmont  descended  confidently,  then  turned  into  a 
dark  alley — then  up  a  dark  stair — and  then  into  an  open 
door.  While  he  was  whistling  shrilly  for  the  waiter, 
as  if  he  had  been  one  of  his  collie  dogs,  Mannering 
looked  round  him,  and  could  hardly  conceive  how  a 
gentleman  of  a  liberal  profession,  and  good  society, 
should  choose  such  a  scene  for  social  indulgence.  Be- 
sides the  miserable  entrance,  the  house  itself  seemed 
paltry  and  half  ruinous.  The  passage  in  which  they 
stood  had  a  window  to  the  close,  which  admitted  a  little 
light  during  the  day-time,  and  a  villainous  compound  of 
smells  at  all  times,  but  more  especially  towards  evening. 
Corresponding  to  this  window  was  a  borrowed  light  on 
the  other  side  of  the  passage,  looking  into  the  kitchen, 
which  had  no  direct  communication  with  the  free  air, 
but  received  in  the  day-time,  at  second  hand,  such  strag- 
gling and  obscure  light  as  found  its  way  from  the  lane 
through  the  window  opposite.  At  present,  the  interior 
of  the  kitchen  was  visible  by  its  own  huge  fires — a 
sort  of  Pandemonium,  where  men  and  women,  half  un- 


222  HIGH  JINKS 

dressed,  were  busied  in  baking,  broiling,  roasting  oys- 
ters, and  preparing  devils  on  the  gridiron  ;  the  mistress 
of  the  place,  with  her  shoes  slip-shod,  and  her  hair 
straggling  like  that  of  Mega^ra  from  under  a  round-eared 
cap,  toiling,  scolding,  receiving  orders,  giving  them,  and 
obeying  them  all  at  once,  seemed  the  presiding  en- 
chantress of  that  gloomy  and  fiery  region. 

Loud  and  repeated  bursts  of  laughter,  from  different 
quarters  of  the  house,  proved  that  her  labors  were  ac- 
ceptable, and  not  unrewarded  by  a  generous  public. 
"With  some  difficulty  a  waiter  was  prevailed  upon  to 
show  Colonel  Mannering  and  Dinmont  the  room  where 
their  friend,  learned  in  the  law,  held  his  hebdomadal 
carousals.  The  scene  which  it  exhibited,  and  parti- 
cularly the  attitude  of  the  counselor  himself,  the  prin- 
cipal figure  therein,  struck  his  two  clients  with  amaze- 
ment. 

Mr.  Pleydell  was  a  lively,  sharp-looking  gentleman, 
with  a  professional  shrewdness  in  his  eye,  and  gene- 
rally speaking,  a  professional  formality  in  his  manners. 
But  this,  like  his  three-tailed  wig  and  black  coat,  he 
could  slip  off  on  a  Saturday  evening,  when  surrounded 
by  a  party  of  jolly  companions,  and  disposed  for  what 
he  called  his  altitudes.  On  the  present  occasion,  the 
revel  had  lasted  since  four  o'clock,  and,  at  length,  under 
the  direction  of  a  venerable  compotator,  who  had  shared 
the  sports  and  festivity  of  three  generations,  the  frolic- 
some company  had  begun  to  practise  the  ancient  and 
now  forgotten  pastime  of  High  Jinks.  This  game  was 
played  in  several  different  ways.  Most  frequently  the 
dice  were  thrown  by  the  company,  and  those  upon 
whom  the  lot  fell  were  obliged  to  assume  and  maintain, 


A  SCOTTISH  LAWYER  OF  THE   OLD  SCHOOL.  223 

for  a  time,  a  certain  fictitious  character,  or  to  repeat  a 
certain  number  of  fescennine  verses  in  a  particular  order. 
If  they  departed  from  the  characters  assigned,  or  if 
their  memory  proved  treacherous  in  the  repetition,  they 
incurred  forfeits,  whicli  were  either  compounded  for 
by  swallowing  an  additional  bumper,  or  by  paying  a 
small  sum  towards  the  reckoning.  At  this  sport  the 
jovial  company  M-ere  closely  engaged  when  Mannering 
entered  the  room. 

Mr.  Counselor  Pleydell,  such  as  we  have  described 
him,  was  enthroned,  as  a  monarch,  in  an  elbow  chair, 
placed  on  the  dining-table,  his  scratch  wig  on  one  side, 
his  head  crowned  with  a  bottle-slider,  his  eye  leering 
with  an  expression  betwixt  fun  and  the  effects  of  wine, 
while  his  court  around  him  resounded  with  such  crambo 
scraps  of  verse  as  these: — 

Where  is  Gerunto  nowl  and  what's  become  of  him  ! 
Geruato's  drown'd  because  he  could  not  swim,  &c.  &c. 

Such,  O  Themis,  were  anciently  the  sports  of  thy 
Scottish  children  ! 

Dinmont  was  first  in  the  room.  He  stood  aghast  a 
moment — and  then  exclaimed,  "  It's  him  sure  enough 
— Deil  o'  the  like  o'  that  ever  I  saw !" 

At  the  sound  of  "Mr.  Dinmont  and  Colonel  Man- 
nering wanting  to  speak  to  you,  sir,"  Pleydell  turned 
his  head,  and  blushed  a  little  when  he  saw  the  very 
genteel  figure  of  the  English  stranger.  He  was,  how- 
ever, of  the  opinion  of  Falstafi',  "  Out,  ye  villains,  play 
out  the  play  !"  wisely  judging  it  the  better  way  to  ap- 
pear totally  unconcerned.     "Where  be   our  guards?" 


224  HIGH  JINKS • 

exclaimed  this  second  Justinian ;  "  see  ye  not  a  stranger 
knight  from  foreign  parts  arrived  at  this  our  court  of 
Holyrood — with  our  bold  yeoman  Andrew  Dinmont, 
who  has  succeeded  to  the  keeping  of  our  royal  flocks 
within  the  forest  of  Jedwood,  where,  thanks  to  our 
royal  care  in  the  administration  of  justice,  they  feed 
as  safe  as  if  they  were  within  the  bounds  of  Fife  ? 
Where  be  our  heralds,  our  pursuivants,  our  Lyon,  our 
Marchmount,  our  Carrick,  and  our  Snowdown?  Let 
the  strangers  be  placed  at  our  board,  and  regaled  as  be- 
seemeth  their  quality,  and  this  our  high  holiday — to- 
morrow we  will  hear  their  tidings." 

"So  please  you,  my  liege,  to-morrow's  Sunday," 
said  one  of  the  company. 

"  Sunday,  is  it  ?  then  we  will  give  no  offence  to  the 
Assembly  of  the  Kirk — on  Monday  shall  be  their  au- 
dience." 

Mannering,  who  had  stood  at  first  uncertain  whether 
to  advance  or  retreat,  now  resolved  to  enter  for  the 
moment  into  the  whim  of  the  scene,  though  internally 
fretting  at  Mac-Morlan  for  sending  him  to  consult  with 
a  crack-brained  humorist.  He  therefore  advanced  with 
three  profound  congees,  and  craved  permission  to  lay 
his  credentials  at  tlie  feet  of  the  Scottish  monarch,  in 
order  to  be  perused  at  his  best  leisure.  The  gravity 
with  which  he  accommodated  himself  to  the  humor  of 
the  moment,  and  the  deep  and  humble  inclination  with 
which  he  at  first  declined,  and  then  accepted,  a  seat 
presented  by  the  master  of  the  ceremonies,  procured 
him  three  rounds  of  applause. 

A  large  glass  of  claret  was  offered  to  Mannering, 
who  drank    it   to   the  health  of  the  reigning  prince. 


*  A  SCOTTISH  LAAVYER  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL.  225 

"  You  are,  I  presume  to  guess,"  said  the  monarch, 
"  that  celebrated  Sir  Miles  Mannering,  so  renowned  in 
the  French  wars,  and  may  well  pronounce  to  us  if  the 
Avines  of  Gascony  lose  their  flavor  in  our  more  northern 
realm." 

Mannering,  agreeably  flattered  by  this  allusion  to 
the  fame  of  his  celebrated  ancestor,  replied,  by  profess- 
ing himself  only  a  distant  relation  of  the  preux  cheva- 
lier, and  added,  "  that  in  his  opinion  the  wine  was 
superlatively  good." 

"  It's  ower  cauld  for  my  stamach,"  said  Dinmont, 
setting  down  the  glass  (empty,  however). 

"  AVe  will  correct  that  quality,"  answered  King 
Paulus,  liie  first  of  the  name  ;  "  we  have  not  forgotten 
that  the  moist  and  humid  air  of  our  valley  of  Liddel 
inclines  to  stronger  potations. — Seneschal,  let  our  faith- 
ful yeoman  have  a  cup  of  brandy ;  it  will  be  more  ger- 
main  to  the  matter." 

"  And  now,"  said  Mannering,  "  since  we  have  un- 
warily intruded  upon  your  majesty  at  a  moment  of 
mirthful  retirement,  be  pleased  to  say  when  you  will 
indulge  a  stranger  with  an  audience  on  those  aff'airs 
of  weight  which  have  brought  him  to  your  northern 
capital." 

The  monarch  opened  Mac-Morlan's  letter,  and,  run- 
ning it  hastily  over,  exclaimed,  with  his  natural  voice 
and  manner,  "Lucy  Bertram  of  Ellangowan,  poor  dear 
lassie  !" 

"A  forfeit!  a  forfeit!"  exclaimed  a  dozen  voices; 
"  his  majesty  has  forgot  his  kingly  character." 

"  Not  a  whit!  not  a  whit!"  replied  the  king:  "I'll  be 
judged  by  this  courteous  knight.     May  not  a  monarch 


226  THE  ANTIQUARY 

love  a  maid  of  low  degree  ?     Is  not  King  Cophetua  and 
the  Beggar-maid  an  adjudged  case  in  point?" 

"Professional!  professional! — another  forfeit,"  ex- 
claimed the  tumultuary  nobility. 

"  Nay,  then,  sink  state  and  perish  sovereignty  !  for, 
like  a  second  Charles  V.,  we  will  abdicate,  and  seek 
in  private  shades  of  life  those  pleasures  which  are  denied 
to  a  throne." 

So  saying,  he  flung  away  his  crown,  and  sprung  from 
his  exalted  station  with  more  agility  than  could  have 
been  expected  from  his  age,  ordered  lights  and  a  wash- 
hand  basin  and  towel,  with  a  cup  of  green  tea,  into 
another  room,  and  made  a  sign  to  Mannering  to  accom- 
pany him.  In  less  than  two  minutes  he  Avashed  his 
face  and  hands,  settled  his  wig  in  the  glass,  and,  to  Man- 
nering's  great  surprise,  looked  quite  a  different  man 
from  the  childish  Bacchanal  he  had  seen  a  moment 
before. 


THE  ANTIQUARY 

ON    THE    HIGH    STREET    OF    EDINBURGH. 

It  was  early  on  a  fine  summer's  day,  near  the  end 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  when  a  young  man  of  genteel 
appearance,  journeying  towards  the  north-east  of  Scot- 
land, provided  himself  with  a  ticket  in  one  of  those 
public  carriages  which  travel  between  Edinburgh  and 


ON  THE  HIGH  STREET  OF  EDINBURGH.      227 

the  Qiieensferry,  at  which  place,  as  the  name  implies, 
and  as  is  well  known  to  all  my  northern  readers,  there 
is  a  passage-boat  for  crossing  the  Firth  of  Forth,  The 
coach  was  calculated  to  carry  six  regular  passengers, 
besides  such  interlopers  as  the  coachman  could  pick 
up  by  the  way,  and  intrude  upon  those  who  were  le- 
gally in  possession.  The  tickets,  which  conferred  right 
to  a  seat  in  this  vehicle  of  little  ease,  were  dispensed 
by  a  sharp-looking  old  dame,  with  a  pair  of  spectacles 
on  a  very  thin  nose,  who  inhabited  a  "  laigh  shop," 
anglice,  a  cellar,  opening  to  the  High  Street  by  a  strait 
and  steep  stair,  at  the  bottom  of  which  she  sold  tape, 
thread,  needles,  skeins  of  worsted,  coarse  linen  cloth, 
and  such  feminine  gear,  to  those  who  had  the  courage 
and  skill  to  descend  to  the  profundity  of  her  dwelling, 
Avitliout  falling  headlong  themselves,  or  throwing  down 
any  of  the  numerous  articles  which,  piled  on  each  side 
of  the  descent,  indicated  the  profession  of  the  trader 
below. 

The  written  hand-bill,  which,  pasted  on  a  projecting 
board,  announced  that  the  Queensferry  Diligence,  or 
Hawes  Fly,  departed  precisely  at  twelve  o'clock  on 
Tuesday,  the  fifteenth  July,  17 — ,  in  order  to  secure  for 
travelers  the  opportunity  of  passing  the  Firth  with  the 
flood-tide,  lied  on  the  present  occasion  like  a  bulletin ; 
for  although  that  hour  was  pealed  from  Saint  Giles's 
steeple,  and  repeated  by  the  Tron,  no  coach  appeared 
upon  the  appointed  stand.  It  is  true,  only  two  tickets 
had  been  taken  out,  and  possibly  the  lady  of  the  sub- 
terranean mansion  might  have  an  understanding  with 
her  Automedon,  that,  in  such  cases,  a  little  space  was 
to  be  allowed  for  the  chance  of  filling  up   the  vacant 


228  THE  ANTIQUARY 

places — or  the  said  Antomedon  might  have  been  at- 
tending a  funeral,  and  be  delayed  by  the  necessity  of 
stripping  his  vehicle  of  its  lugubrious  trappings — or  he 
might  have  staid  to  take  a  half-rautchkin  extraordinary 
with  his  crony  the  hostler — or — in  short,  he  did  not 
make  his  appearance. 

The  young  gentleman,  who  began  to  groAv  somewhat 
impatient,  was  now  joined  by  a  companion  in  this  petty 
misery  of  human  life — the  person  who  had  taken  out 
the  other  place.  He  who  is  bent  upon  a  journey  is 
usually  easily  to  be  distinguished  from  his  fellow-citi- 
zens. The  boots,  the  greatcoat,  the  umbrella,  the  little 
bundle  in  his  hand,  the  hat  pulled  over  his  resolved 
brows,  the  determined  importance  of  his  pace,  his  brief 
answers  to  the  salutations  of  lounging  acquaintances, 
are  all  marks  by  which  the  experienced  traveler  in 
mail-coach  or  diligence  can  distinguish,  at  a  distance, 
the  companion  of  his  future  journey,  as  he  pushes  on- 
ward to  the  place  of  rendezvous.  It  is  then  that,  with 
worldly  wisdom,  the  first  comer  hastens  to  secure  the 
best  birth  in  the  coach  for  himself,  and  to  make  the 
most  convenient  arrangement  for  his  baggage  before  the 
arrival  of  his  competitors.  Our  youth,  who  was  gifted 
withlitde  prudence  of  any  sort,  and  who  was,  moreover, 
by  the  absence  of  the  coach,  deprived  of  the  power  of 
availing  himself  of  his  priority  of  choice,  amused  him- 
self, instead,  by  speculating  upon  the  occupation  and 
cliaracter  of  the  personage  who  was  now  come  to  the 
coach-office. 

He  was  a  good-looking  man  of  the  age  of  sixty,  per- 
haps older,  but  his  hale  complexion  and  firm  step  an- 
nounced that  years  had  not  impaired  his  strength  or 


ON  THE  IIIOII  STREET  OF  EDINBURGH.  229 

health.  His  countenance  was  of  the  true  Scottish  cast, 
strongly  marked,  and  rather  harsh  in  features,  with  a 
shrewd  and  penetrating  eye,  and  a  countenance  in 
which  habitual  gravity  was  enlivened  by  a  cast  of  ironi- 
cal humor.  His  dress  was  uniform,  and  of  a  color  be- 
coming his  age  and  gravity;  a  wig,  well  dressed  and 
powdered,  surmounted  by  a  slouched  hat,  and  something 
of  a  professional  air.  He  might  be  a  clergyman,  yet  his 
appearance  was  more  that  of  a  man  of  the  world  than 
usually  belongs  to  the  kirk  of  Scotland,  and  his  first 
ejaculation  put  the  matter  beyond  question. 

He  arrived  with  a  hurried  pace,  and  casting  an  alarmed 
glance  towards  the  dial-plate  of  the  church,  then  look- 
ing at  the  place  where  the  coach  should  have  been,  ex- 
claimed, "Deil's  in  it — I  am  too  late  after  all!" 

The  young  man  relieved  his  anxiety  by  telling  him 
the  coach  had  not  yet  appeared.  The  old  gentleman, 
apparently  conscious  of  his  own  want  of  punctuality, 
did  not  at  first  feel  courageous  enough  to  censure  that 
of  the  coachman.  He  took  a  parcel,  containing  ap- 
parently a  large  folio,  from  a  little  boy  who  followed 
him,  and,  patting  him  on  the  head,  bid  liim  go  back 

and  tell  Mr.  B ,  that  if  he  had  known  he  was 

to  have  had  so  much  time,  he  would  have  put  another 
word  or  two  to  their  bargain  —  then  told  the  boy  to 
mind  his  business,  and  he  would  be  as  thriving  a  lad  as 
ever  dusted  a  duodecimo.  The  boy  lingered,  perhaps 
in  hopes  of  a  penny  to  buy  marbles  ;  but  none  was 
forthcoming.  Our  senior  leaned  his  little  bundle  upon 
one  of  the  posts  at  the  head  of  the  staircase,  and,  fac- 
ing the  traveler  who  had  first  arrived,  waited  in  silence 


230  THE  ANTIQUARY 

for  about  five  minutes  the  arrival  of  the  expected  dili- 
gence. 

At  length,  after  one  or  two  impatient  glances  at  the 
progress  of  the  minute  hand  of  the  clock,  having  com- 
pared it  with  his  own  watch,  a  huge  and  antique  gold 
repeater,  and  having  twitched  about  his  features  to  give 
due  emphasis  to  one  or  two  peevish  pshaws,  he  hailed 
the  old  lady  of  the  cavern. 

"  Good  woman — what  is  her  name? — Mrs.  Macleu- 
char!" 

Mrs.  Macleuchar,  aware  that  slie  had  a  defensive 
part  to  sustain  in  the  encounter  which  was  to  follow, 
was  in  no  hurry  to  hasten  the  discussion  by  returning 
a  ready  answer. 

Mrs.  Macleuchar — Good  woman"  (with  an  elevated 
voice) — then  apart,  "Old  doited  hag,  she  's  as  deaf  as 
a  post — I  say,  Mrs.  Macleuchar!" 

"I  am  just  serving  a  customer.  Indeed,  hinny,  it 
will  no  be  a  boddle  cheaper  than  I  tell  ye." 

"  Woman,"  reiterated  the  traveler,  "do  you  think  we 
can  stand  here  all  day  till  you  have  cheated  that  poor  ser- 
vant wench  out  of  her  half-year's  fee  and  bountith  ?" 

"Cheated  !"  retorted  Mrs.  Macleucliar,  eao-er  to  take 
up  the  quarrel  upon  a  defensible  ground  ;  "  I  scorn  your 
words,  sir;  you  are  an  uncivil  person,  and  I  desire  you 
will  not  stand  there  to  slander  me  at  my  ain  stair- 
head." 

"  The  woman,"  said  the  senior,  looking  with  an  arch 
glance  at  his  destined  traveling  companion,  "  does  not 
understand  the  words  of  action. — Woman,"  again  turn- 
ing to  the  vault,  "  I  arraign  not  thy  character,  but  I  de- 
sire to  know  what  has  become  of  thy  coach  !" 


ON  THE  HIGH  STREET  OF  EDINBURGH.  231 

"  What  's  your  wuU  ?"  answered  Mrs.  Macleuchar, 
relapsing  into  deafness. 

"  We  have  taken  places,  ma'am,"  said  the   younger 

stranger,  "  in   your    diligence    for    Queensferry." 

"  Which  should  have  been  half-way  on  the  road  before 
now,"  continued  the  elder  and  more  impatient  traveler, 
rising  in  wrath  as  he  spoke;  and  now  in  all  likelihood 
we  shall  miss  the  tide,  and  I  have  business  of  import- 
ance on  the  other  side — and  your  coach" 

"  The  coach  ? — gude  guide  us,  gendemen,  is  it  no  on 
the  stand  yet  ?"  answered  the  lady,  her  shrill  tone  of 
expostulation  sinking  into  a  kind  of  apologetic  whine. 
"Is  it  the  coach  ye  hae  been  waiting  for?" 

"  What  else  could  have  kept  us  broiling  in  the  sun  by 
the  side  of  the  gutter  here,  you — you  faithless  woman  ? 
Eh?" 

Mrs.  Macleuchar  now  ascended  her  trap-stair  (for 
such  it  might  be  called,  though  constructed  of  stone), 
until  her  nose  came  upon  a  level  with  the  pavement; 
then,  after  wiping  her  spectacles  to  look  for  that  which 
she  well  knew  was  not  to  be  found,  she  exclaimed,  with 
well-feigned  astonishment,  "  Gude  guide  us — saw  ever 
ony  body  the  like  o'  that !" 

"  Yes,  you  abominable  woman,"  vociferated  the  tra- 
veler, "  many  have  seen  the  like  of  it,  and  all  will  see 
the  like  of  it,  that  have  anything  to  do  with  your  trol- 
loping  sex  ;"  then,  pacing  with  great  indignation  before 
the  door  of  the  shop,  still  as  he  passed  and  repassed, 
like  a  vessel  who  gives  her  broadside  as  she  conies 
abreast  of  a  hostile  fortress,  he  shot  down  complaints, 
threats,  and  reproaches,  on  the  embarrassed  Mrs.  Mac- 
leuchar.— He  would  take  a  post-chaise — he  would  call 


232  THE  ANTIQUARY 

a  hackney-coach — he  wouhl  take  four  horses — he  must 
— he  would  be  on  the  north  side  to-day  and  all  the  ex- 
pense of  his  journey,  besides  damages,  direct  and  conse- 
quential, arising  from  delay,  should  be  accumulated  on 
the  devoted  head  of  Mrs.  Macleuchar. 

There  was  something  so  comic  in  his  pettish  resent- 
ment, that  the  younger  traveler,  who  was  in  no  such 
pressing  hurry  to  depart,  could  not  help  being  amused 
with  it,  especially  as  it  was  obvious,  that  every  now 
and  then  the  old  gentleman,  though  very  angry,  could 
not  help  laughing  at  his  own  vehemence.  But  when 
Mrs.  Macleuchar  began  also  to  join  in  the  laughter,  he 
quickly  put  a  stop  to  her  ill-timed  merriment. 

"Woman,"  said  he,  "is  that  advertisement  thine?" 
showing  a  bit  of  crumpled  printed  paper:  "  Does  it  not 
set  forth,  that,  God  willing,  as  you  hypocritically  ex- 
press it,  the  Hawes  Fly,  or  Queensferry  Diligence, 
would  set  forth  to-day  at  twelve  o'clock  ;  and  is  it  not, 
thou  falsest  of  creatures,  now  a  quarter  past  twelve, 
and  no  such  fly  or  diligence  to  be  seen  ? — Dost  thou 
know  the  consequence  of  seducing  the  lieges  by  false 
reports  ? — Dost  thou  know  it  might  be  brought  under 
the  statute  of  leasing-making  ?  Answer,  and  for  once 
in  thy  long,  useless,  and  evil  life,  let  it  be  in  the  words 
of  truth  and  sincerity — hast  thou  such  a  coach? — Is  it 
inrerumnatura? — or  is  this  base  annunciation  a  mere 
swindle  on  the  incautious,  to  beguile  them  of  their  time, 
their  patience,  and  three  shillings  of  sterling  money  of 
this  realm? — Hast  thou,  I  say,  such  a  coach?  ay  or 
no  ?" 

"0  dear,  yes,  sir?  the  neighbors  ken  the  diligence 


ON  THE  HIGH  STREET  OF  EDINBURGH.  233 

weel,  green  picked  out  wi'  red — three  yellow  wheels  and 
a  black  ane." 

"Woman,  thy  special  description  will  not  serve — it 
may  be  only  a  lie  with  a  circumstance." 

"  O,  man,  man  !"  said  the  overwhelmed  Mrs.  Mac- 
leuchar,  totally  exhausted  by  having  been  so  long  the 
butt  of  his  rhetoric,  "  take  back  your  three  shillings,  and 
mak  me  quit  o'  ye." 

"Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast,  woman — Avill  three  shillings 
transport  me  to  Queensferry,  agreeably  to  thy  treache- 
rous program  ? — or  will  it  requite  the  damage  I  may 
sustain  by  leaving  my  business  undone,  or  repay  the 
expenses  which  I  must  disburse  if  I  am  obliged  to  tarry 
a  day  at  the  South  Ferry  for  lack  of  tide  ?  Will  it  hire, 
I  say,  a  pinnace,  for  which  alone  the  regular  price  is 
five  shillings  ? 

Here  his  argument  was  cut  short  by  a  lumbering  noise, 
which  proved  to  be  the  advance  of  the  expected  vehi- 
cle, pressing  forward  with  all  the  despatch  to  which  the 
broken-windedjades  that  drew  it  could  possibly  be  urged. 
With  ineffable  pleasure,  Mrs.  Macleuchar  saw  her  tor- 
mentor deposited  in  the  leathern  convenience  ;  but  still, 
as  it  was  driving  off,  his  head  thrust  out  of  the  window 
reminded  her,  in  words  drowned  amid  the  rumbling  of 
the  wheels,  that,  if  the  diligence  did  not  attain  the  Ferry 
in  time  to  save  the  flood-tide,  she,  Mrs.  Macleuchar, 
should  be  held  responsible  for  all  the  consequences  that 
might  ensue. 

VOL.  11. — 16 


234  STORM,  AND  PERILOUS  SITUATION 


STORM,   AND   PERILOUS   SITUATION 

BY  THE  SEA-SIDE. 

The  knight  and  his  daughter  left  the  high  road,  and, 
following  a  wandering  path  among  sandy  hillocks,  partly 
grown  over  with  furze  and  the  long  grass  called  bent, 
soon  attained  the  side  of  the  ocean.  The  tide  was  by 
no  means  so  far  out  as  they  had  computed;  but  this 
gave  them  no  alarm;  there  were  seldom  ten  days  in  the 
year  when  it  approached  so  near  the  cliffs  as  not  to 
leave  a  dry  passage.  But,  nevertheless,  at  periods  of 
spring-tide,  or  even  when  the  ordinary  flood  was  ac- 
celerated by  high  winds,  this  road  was  altogether  covered 
by  tiie  sea ;  and  tradition  liad  recorded  several  fatal  ac- 
cidents which  had  happened  on  such  occasions.  Still, 
such  dangers  were  considered  as  remote  and  improba- 
ble ;  and  rather  served,  with  other  legends,  to  amuse 
the  hamlet  fireside,  than  to  prevent  any  one  from  going 
between  Knockwinnock  and  Monkbarns  by  the  sands. 

As  Sir  Arthur  and  Miss  Wardour  paced  along,  en- 
joying the  pleasant  footing  afforded  by  the  cool  moist 
hard  sand.  Miss  Wardour  could  not  help  observing, 
that  the  last  tide  had  risen  considerably  above  the  usual 
water-mark.  Sir  Arthur  made  the  same  observation, 
but  without  its  occurring  to  either  of  them  to  be  alarmed 
at  the  circumstance.  The  sun  was  now  resting  his 
huge  disk  upon  the  edge  of  the  level  ocean,  and  gilded 
the  accumulation  of  towering  clouds  through  which  he 


BY  THE  SEA-SIDE.  235 

had  traveled  the  livelong  day,  and  which  now  assem- 
bled on  all  sides,  like  misfortunes  and  disasters  around 
a  sinking  empire,  and  a  falling  monarch.  Still,  how- 
ever, his  dying  splendor  gave  a  sombre  magnificence  to 
the  massive  congregation  of  vapors,  forming  out  of 
their  unsubstantial  gloom,  the  show  of  pyramids  and 
towers,  some  touched  with  gold,  some  with  purple, 
some  with  a  hue  of  deep  and  dark  red.  The  distant 
sea,  stretched  beneath  this  varied  and  gorgeous  canopy, 
lay  almost  portentously  still,  reflecting  back  the  daz- 
zling and  level  beams  of  the  descending  luminary,  and 
the  splendid  coloring  of  the  clouds  amidst  which  he 
was  setting.  Nearer  to  the  beach,  the  tide  rippled 
onward  in  waves  of  sparkling  silver,  that  imperceptibly, 
yet  rapidly,  gained  upon  the  sand. 

With  a  mind  employed  in  admiration  of  the  romantic 
scene,  or  perhaps  on  some  more  agitating  topic.  Miss 
Wardour  advanced  in  silence  by  her  fatiier's  side,  who 
did  not  open  any  conversation.  Following  the  wind- 
ings of  the  beach,  they  passed  one  projecting  point  or 
headland  of  rock  after  another,  and  now  found  them- 
selves under  a  huge  and  continued  extent  of  the  pre- 
cipices by  which  that  iron-bound  coast  is  in  most  places 
defended.  Long  projecting  reefs  of  rock,  extending 
under  water,  and  only  evincing  their  existence  by  here 
and  there  a  peak  entirely  bare,  or  by  the  breakers  which 
foamed  over  those  that  were  partially  covered,  rendered 
Knockwinnock  bay  dreaded  by  pilots  and  ship-masters. 
The  crags  which  rose  between  the  beach  and  the  main- 
land, to  the  height  of  two  or  three  hundred  feet,  afibrded  in 
their  crevices  shelter  for  unnumbered  sea-fowl,  in  situa- 
tions seemingly  secured  by  their  dizzy  height  from  the 


236  STORM,  AND  PERILOUS  SITUATION 

rapacity  of  man.  Many  of  these  wild  tribes,  with  the 
instinct  which  sends  them  to  seek  the  land  before  a 
storm  arises,  were  now  winging  towards  their  nests 
Avith  the  shrill  and  dissonant  clang  which  announces 
disquietude  and  fear.  The  disk  of  the  sun  became 
almost  totally  obscured  ere  he  had  altogether  sunk  be- 
low the  horizon,  and  an  early  and  lurid  shade  of  dark- 
ness blotted  the  serene  twilight  of  a  summer  evening. 

The  wind  began  next  to  arise  ;  but  its  wild  and  moan- 
ing sound  was  heard  for  some  time,  and  its  effects  be- 
came visible  on  the  bosom  of  the  sea,  before  the  gale 
was  felt  on  shore.  The  mass  of  waters,  now  dark  and 
threatening,  began  to  lift  itself  in  larger  ridges,  and  sink 
in  deeper  furrows,  forming  waves  tliat  rose  high  in 
foam  upon  the  breakers,  or  burst  upon  the  beach  with 
a  sound  resembling  distant  thunder. 

Appalled  by  this  sudden  change  of  weather.  Miss 
Wardour  drew  close  to  her  father,  and  held  his  arm 
fast.  "  I  wish,"  at  length  she  said,  but  almost  in  a 
whisper,  as  if  ashamed  to  express  her  increasing  appre- 
hensions, "I  wish  we  had  kept  the  road  we  intended, 
or  waited  at  Monkbarns  for  the  carriage." 

Sir  Arthur  looked  round,  but  did  not  see,  or  would 
not  acknowledge,  any  signs  of  an  immediate  storm. 
They  would  reach  Knockwinnock,  he  said,  long  before 
the  tempest  began.  But  the  speed  with  which  he 
walked,  and  with  which  Isabella  could  hardly  keep 
pace,  indicated  a  feeling  that  some  exertion  was  neces- 
sary to  accomplish  his  consolatory  prediction. 

They  were  now  near  the  centre  of  a  deep  but  narrow 
bay,  or  recess,  formed  by  two  projecting  capes  of  high 
and  inaccessible  rock,  which  shot  out  into  the  sea  like 


BY  THE  SEA-SIDE.  237 

the  horns  of  a  crescent;  and  neither  durst  communicate 
the  apprehension  which  each  began  to  entertain,  that, 
from  the  unusually  rapid  advance  of  the  tide,  they  might 
be  deprived  of  the  power  of  proceeding  by  doubling 
the  promontory  which  lay  before  them,  or  of  retreating 
by  the  road  which  brought  them  thither. 

As  they  pressed  forward,  longing  doubtless  to  ex- 
change the  easy  curving  line,  which  the  sinuosities  of 
the  bay  compelled  them  to  adopt,  for  a  straighter  and 
more  expeditious  path,  though  less  conformable  to  the 
line  of  beauty.  Sir  Arthur  observed  a  human  figure  on 
the  beach  advancing  to  meet  them.  "  Thank  God," 
he  exclaimed,  "  we  shall  get  round  Halket-head!  that 
person  must  have  passed  it ;"  thus  giving  vent  to  the 
feeling  of  hope,  though  he  had  suppressed  that  of  ap- 
prehension. 

"  Thank  God,  indeed  !"  echoed  his  daughter,  half  au- 
dibly, half  internally,  as  expressing  the  gratitude  which 
she  strongly  felt. 

The  figure  which  advanced  to  meet  them  made  many 
signs,  which  the  haze  of  the  atmosphere,  now  disturbed 
by  Avind  and  by  a  drizzling  rain,  prevented  them  from 
seeing  or  comprehending  distinctly.  Some  time  before 
they  met,  Sir  Arthur  could  recognize  the  old  blue-gowned 
beggar,  Edie  Ochiltree.  It  is  said  that  even  the  brute 
creation  lay  aside  their  animosities  and  antipathies  when 
pressed  by  an  instant  and  common  danger.  The  beach 
under  Halket-head,  rapidly  diminishing  in  extent  by  the 
encroachments  of  the  spring-tide  and  a  north-west  wind, 
was  in  like  manner  a  neutral  field,  where  even  a  justice 
of  the  peace  and  a  strolling  mendicant  might  meet  upon 
terms  of  mutual  forbearance. 


238  STORM,  AND  PERILOUS  SITUATION 

"  Turn  back  !  turn  back  !"  exclaimed  the  vagrant  ; 
"why  did  ye  not  turn  when  I  waved  to  you  ?" 

"  We  thought,"  rephed  Sir  Arthur,  in  great  agitation, 
"  we  thought  we  couhl  get  round  Halket-head." 

"  Halket-head  !  The  tide  will  be  running  on  Ilalket- 
head  by  this  lime,  like  the  Fall  of  Fyers  !  It  was  a'  I 
could  do  to  get  round  it  twenty  minutes  since — it  was 
coming  in  three  feet  abreast.  We  will  maybe  get  back 
by  Bally-burgh  Ness  Point  yet.  The  Lord  help  us,  it's 
our  only  chance.     We  can  but  try." 

"  My  God,  my  child  !"— "  My  father,  my  dear  fa- 
ther!"  exclaimed  the  parent  and  daughter,  as  fear  lend- 
ing them  strength  and  speed,  they  turned  to  retrace 
their  steps,  and  endeavored  to  double  the  point,  the  pro- 
jection of  which  formed  the  southern  extremity  of  the 
bay. 

"  I  heard  ye  were  here,  frae  the  bit  callant  ye  sent 
to  meet  your  carriage,"  said  the  beggar,  as  he  trudged 
stoutly  on  a  step  or  two  behind  Miss  Wardour,  "  and  I 
couldna  bide  to  think  o'  the  dainty  young  leddy's  peril, 
that  has  aye  been  kind  to  ilka  forlorn  heart  that  cam 
near  her.  Sae  I  lookit  at  the  lift  and  the  rin  o'  the  tide, 
till  I  settled  it  that  if  I  could  get  down  time  eneugh  to 
gie  you  warning,  we  wad  do  weel  yet.  But  I  doubt,  I 
have  been  beguiled  !  for  what  mortal  ee  ever  saw  sic  a 
race  as  the  tide  is  running  e'en  now  ?  See,  yonder's 
the  Ration's  Skerry — he  aye  held  his  neb  abune  the 
water  in  my  day — but  he's  aneath  it  now." 

Sir  Arthur  cast  a  look  in  the  direction  in  which  the 
old  man  pointed.  A  huge  rock,  which  in  general,  even 
in  spring-tides,  displayed  a  hulk  like  the  keel  of  a  large 
vessel,  was  now  quite  under  water,  and  its  place  only 


BY  THE  SEA-SIDE.  239 

indicated  by  the  boiling  and  breaking  of  the  eddying 
waves  which  encountered  its  submarine  resistance. 

"Mak  haste,  mak  haste,  my  bonny  leddy,"  continued 
the  old  man,  "  mak  haste,  and  we  may  do  yet!  Take 
hand  o'  my  arm — an  auld  and  frail  arm  it's  now,  but 
it's  been  in  as  sair  stress  as  this  is  yet.  Take  hand 
o'  my  arm,  my  winsome  leddy  !  D'  ye  see  yon  wee 
black  speck  among  the  wallowing  waves  yonder  ?  This 
morning  it  was  as  high  as  the  mast  o'  a  brig — it's  sma 
eneugh  now — but,  while  I  see  as  muckle  black  about  it 
as  the  crown  o'  my  hat,  I  winna  believe  but  we'll  get 
round  the  Bally-burgh  Ness,  for  a'  that's  come  and  gane 
yet." 

Isabella,  in  silence,  accepted  from  the  old  man  the 
assistance  which  Sir  Arthur  was  less  able  to  afford  her. 
The  waves  had  now  encroached  so  much  upon  the  beach, 
that  the  firm  and  smooth  footing  which  they  had  hither- 
to had  on  the  sand  must  be  exchanged  for  a  rougher 
path  close  to  the  foot  of  the  precipice,  and  in  some 
places  even  raised  upon  its  lower  ledges.  It  would  have 
been  utterly  impossible  for  Sir  Arthur  Wardour,  or  his 
daughter,  to  have  found  their  way  along  these  shelves 
without  the  guidance  and  encouragement  of  the  beg- 
gar, who  had  been  there  before  in  high  tides,  though 
never,  he  acknowledged,  "  in  sae  awsome  a  night  as 
this." 

It  was  indeed  a  dreadful  evening.  The  howling  of 
the  storm  mingled  with  the  shrieks  of  the  sea-fowl,  and 
sounded  like  the  dirge  of  the  three  devoted  beings,  who, 
pent  between  two  of  the  most  magnificent,  yet  most 
dreadful  objects  of  nature — a  raging  tide  and  an  insur- 
mountable precipice — toiled  along  their  painful  and  dan- 


240  STORM,  AND  PERILOUS  SITUATION 

gerous  path,  often  lashed  by  the  spray  of  some  giant 
billow,  which  threw  itself  higher  on  the  beach  than 
those  that  had  preceded  it.  Each  minute  did  their 
enemy  gain  ground  perceptibly  upon  them  !  Still,  how- 
ever, loth  to  relinquish  the  last  hopes  of  life,  they  bent 
their  eyes  on  the  black  rock  pointed  out  by  Ochiltree. 
It  was  yet  distincdy  visible  among  the  breakers,  and 
continued  to  be  so,  until  they  came  to  a  turn  in  their 
precarious  path,  where  an  intervening  projection  of 
rock  hid  it  from  their  sight.  Deprived  of  the  view  of 
the  beacon  on  which  they  had  relied,  they  now  ex- 
perienced the  double  agony  of  terror  and  suspense. 
They  struggled  forward,  however ;  but,  when  they  ar- 
rived at  the  point  from  which  they  ought  to  have  seen 
the  crag,  it  was  no  longer  visible.  The  signal  of  safe- 
ty was  lost  among  a  thousand  white  breakers,  which, 
dashing  upon  the  point  of  the  promontory,  rose  in  pro- 
digious sheets  of  snowy  foam,  as  high  as  the  mast  of  a 
first-rate  man-of-war,  against  the  dark  brow  of  the  pre- 
cipice. 

The  countenance  of  the  old  man  fell.  Isabella  gave 
a  faint  shriek,  and,  "  God  have  mercy  upon  us  !"  which 
her  guide  solemnly  uttered,  was  piteously  echoed  by 
Sir  Arthur — "  My  child  !  my  child ! — to  die  such  a 
death!" 

"  My  father  !  my  dear  father  !"  his  daughter  ex- 
claimed, clinging  to  him, — "  and  you  too,  who  have 
lost  your  own  life  in  endeavoring  to  save  ours  !" 

"  That's  not  worth  the  counting,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  I  hae  lived  to  be  weary  o'  life ;  and  here  or  yonder 
— at  the  back  o'  a  dyke,  in  a  wreath  o'  snaw,  or  in  the 


BY  THE  SEA-SIDE.  241 

wame  o'  a  wave,  what  signifies  how  the  auld  gaberlun- 
zie  dies?" 

"  Good  man,"  said  Sir  Arthur,  "can  you  think  of  no- 
thing?— of  no  help? — I'll  make  you  rich — I'll  give 
you  a  farm — I'll 

"  Our  riches  will  be  soon  equal,"  said  the  beggar, 
looking  out  upon  the  strife  of  the  water — "they  are 
sae  already ;  for  I  hae  nae  land,  and  you  would  give 
your  fair  bounds  and  barony  for  a  square  yard  of  rock 
that  would  be  dry  for  tvval  hours." 

While  they  exchanged  these  words,  they  paused 
upon  the  highest  ledge  of  rock  to  which  they  could 
attain;  for  it  seemed  that  any  farther  attempt  to  move 
forward  could  only  serve  to  anticipate  their  fate.  Here, 
then,  they  were  to  await  the  sure  though  slow  progress 
of  the  raging  element,  something  in  the  situation  of  the 
martyrs  of  the  early  church,  who,  exposed  by  heathen 
tyrants  to  be  slain  by  wild  beasts,  were  compelled  for 
a  time  to  witness  the  impatience  and  rage  by  which 
the  animals  were  agitated,  while  awaiting  the  signal  for 
undoing  their  grates,  and  letting  them  loose  upon  the 
victims. 

Yet  even  this  fearful  pause  gave  Isabella  time  to  col- 
lect the  powers  of  a  mind  naturally  strong  and  courage- 
ous, and  which  rallied  itself  at  this  terrible  juncture. 
"Must  we  yield  life,"  she  said,  without  a  struggle?  Is 
there  no  path,  however  dreadful,  by  which  we  could 
climb  the  crag,  or  at  least  attain  some  height  above  the 
tide,  where  we  could  remain  till  morning,  or  till  help 
comes  ?  They  must  be  aware  of  our  situation,  and 
will  raise  the  country  to  relieve  us." 

Sir  Arthur,  who  heard,  but  scarcely  comprehended, 


242  STORM,  AND  PERILOUS  SITUATION 

his  daughter's  question,  turned,  nevertheless,  instinct- 
ively and  eagerly  to  the  old  man,  as  if  their  lives  were 
in  his  gift.  Ochiltree  paused.  "  I  was  a  bauld  craigs- 
man,"  he  said,  "  ance  in  my  life,  and  mony  a  kitty- 
wake's  and  lungie's  nest  hae  I  harried  up  amang  thae 
very  black  rocks;  but  it's  lang,  lang  syne,  and  nae 
mortal  could  speel  them  without  a  rope — and  if  I  had 
ane,  my  ee-sight,  and  my  footstep,  and  my  handgrip, 
hae  a'  failed  mony  a  day  sinsyne — and  then  how  could 
I  save  you  1 — But  there  was  a  path  here  ance,  though 
maybe,  if  we  could  see  it,  ye  would  rather  bide  where 
we  are — His  name  be  praised  !"  he  ejaculated  suddenly, 
"  there's  ane  coming  down  the  craig  e'en  now  !" — 
Then,  exalting  his  voice,  he  hilloa'd  out  to  the  dar- 
ing adventurer  such  instructions  as  his  former  practice, 
and  the  remembrance  of  local  circumstances,  suddenly 
forced  upon  his  mind  : — "  Ye're  right — ye're  right ! — 
that  gate,  that  gate  ! — fasten  the  rope  weel  round  Crum- 
mie's-horn,  that's  the  muckle  black  stane — cast  twa  plies 
round  it — that's  it! — now,  weize  yoursell  a  wee  easel- 
ward — a  wee  mair  yet  to  that  ither  stane — we  ca'd  it 
the  Cat's-lug — there  used  to  be  the  root  o'  an  aik-tree 
there — that  will  do  ! — canny  now,  lad — canny  now — 
tak  tent  and  tak  time — Lord  bless  ye,  tak  time. — Very 
weel ! — Now  ye  maun  get  to  Bessy's  Apron,  that's  the 
muckle  braid  flat  blue  stane — and  then,  I  think,  wi'  your 
help  and  the  tow  thegither,  I'll  win  at  ye,  and  then  we'll 
be  able  to  get  up  the  young  leddy  and  Sir  Arthur." 

The  adventurer,  following  the  directions  of  old  Edie, 
flung  him  down  the  end  of  the  rope,  which  he  secured 
around  Miss  Wardour,  wrapping  her  previously  in  his 
own  blue  gown,  to  preserve  her  as  much  as  possible 


BY  THE  SEA-SIDE.  243 

from  injury.  Then,  availing  himself  of  the  rope,  which 
was  made  fast  at  the  other  end,  he  began  to  ascend  the 
face  of  tlie  crag — a  most  precarious  and  dizzy  under- 
taking, which,  however,  after  one  or  two  perilous  escapes, 
placed  him  safe  on  the  broad  flat  stone  beside  our  friend 
Lovel.  Their  joint  strength  was  able  to  raise  Isabella 
to  the  place  of  safety  which  they  had  attained.  Lovel 
then  descended  in  order  to  assist  Sir  Arthur,  around 
whom  he  adjusted  the  rope;  and  again  mounting  to 
their  place  of  refuge,  with  the  assistance  of  old  Ochil- 
tree, and  such  aid  as  Sir  Arthur  himself  could  afford, 
lie  raised  himself  beyond  the  reach  of  the  billows. 

The  sense  of  reprieve  from  approaching  and  apparently 
inevitable  death,  had  its  usual  effect.  The  father  and 
daughter  threw  themselves  into  each  other's  arms,  kissed 
and  wept  for  joy,  although  their  escape  was  connected 
with  the  prospect  of  passing  a  tempestuous  night  upon 
a  precipitous  ledge  of  rock,  which  scarce  afforded 
footing  for  the  four  shivering  beings,  who  now,  like  the 
sea  fowl  around  them,  clung  there  in  hopes  of  some 
shelter  from  the  devouring  element  which  raged  beneath. 
The  spray  of  the  billows,  which  attained  in  fearful 
succession  the  foot  of  the  precipice,  overflowing  the 
beach  on  which  they  so  lately  stood,  flew  as  high  as 
their  place  of  temporary  refuge  ;  and  the  stunning  sound 
with  which  they  dashed  against  the  rocks  beneath,  seemed 
as  if  they  still  demanded  the  fugitives  in  accents  of 
thunder,  as  their  destined  prey.  It  was  a  summer  night 
doubtless  ;  yet  the  probability  was  slender,  that  a  frame 
so  delicate  as  that  of  Miss  Wardour  should  survive  till 
morning  the  drenching  of  the  spray ;  and  the  dashing 
of  the  rain,  which  now  burst  in  full  violence,  accompanied 


244  STORM,  AND  PERILOUS  SITUATION 

with  deep  and  heavy  gusts  of  wind,  added  to  the  con- 
strained and  perilous  circumstances  of  their  situation. 

"  The  lassie — the  puir  sweet  lassie,"  said  the  old 
man  ;  "  mony  such  a  night  have  I  weathered  at  hame 
and  abroad,  but,  God  guide  us,  how  can  she  ever  win 
through  it!" 

His  apprehension  was  communicated  in  smothered 
accents  to  Lovel;  for,  with  the  sort  of  freemasonry  by 
which  bold  and  ready  spirits  correspond  in  moments  of 
danger,  and  become  almost  instinctively  known  to  each 
other,  they  had  established  a  mutual  confidence, — "  I'll 
climb  up  the  cliff  again,"  said  Lovel,  "  there's  day-light 
enough  left  to  see  my  footing ;  I'll  climb  up  and  call 
for  more  assistance." 

"  Stay  yoursell  then,  and  I'll  gae,"  said  the  old  man  ; 
let  death  spare  the  green  corn  and  take  the  ripe." 

"  Stay  both  of  you,  I  charge  you,"  said  Isabella,  faintly, 
"  I  am  well  and  can  spend  the  night  very  well  here — I 
feel  quite  refreshed."  So  saying,  her  voice  failed  her — 
she  sunk  down,  and  would  have  fallen  from  the  crag, 
had  she  not  been  supported  by  Lovel  and  Ochiltree, 
who  placed  her  in  a  posture  half  sitting,  half  reclining, 
beside  her  father,  who,  exhausted  by  fatigue  of  body 
and  mind  so  extreme  and  unusual,  had  already  sat  down 
on  a  stone  in  a  sort  of  stupor. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  leave  them,"  said  Lovel — "What 
is  to  be  done  ? — Hark !  hark  ! — Did  I  not  hear  a  halloo  ?" 

"  The  skriegh  of  a  Tammie  Norie,"  answered  Ochil- 
tree, "  I  ken  the  skirl  weel."* 

"  No,  by  Heavens,"  replied  Lovel  "  it  was  a  human 


voice." 


*  Tammie  Norie  (bird),  the  avik  ox  puffin. 


BY  THE  SEA-SIDE.  245 

A  distant  hail  was  repeated,  the  sound  plainly  dis- 
tinguishable among  the  various  elemental  noises,  and 
the  clang  of  the  sea-mews  by  which  they  were  sur- 
rounded. The  mendicant  and  Lovel  exerted  their  voices 
in  a  loud  halloo,  the  former  waving  Miss  Wardour's  hand- 
kerchief on  the  end  of  his  staff  to  make  them  conspicuous 
from  above.  Though  the  shouts  were  repeated,  it  was 
some  time  before  they  were  in  exact  response  to  their 
own,  leaving  the  unfortunate  sufferers  uncertain,  whether, 
in  the  darkening  twilight  and  increasing  storm,  they  had 
made  the  persons  who  apparently  were  traversing  the 
verge  of  the  precipice  to  bring  them  assistance,  sensible 
of  the  place  in  which  they  had  found  refuge.  At  length 
their  halloo  was  regularly  and  distinctly  answered,  and 
their  courage  confirmed,  by  the  assurance  that  they 
were  within  hearing,  if  not  within  reach,  of  friendly  as- 
sistance. 

The  shout  of  human  voices  from  above  was  soon 
augmented,  and  the  gleam  of  torches  mingled  with 
those  lights  of  evening  which  still  remained  amidst 
the  darkness  of  the  storm.  Some  attempt  was  made 
to  hold  communication  between  the  assistants  above,  and 
the  sufferers  beneath,  who  were  still  clinging  to  their 
precarious  place  of  safety ;  but  the  howling  of  the  tem- 
pest limited  their  intercourse  to  cries,  as  inarticulate  as 
those  of  the  winged  denizens  of  the  crag,  which  shrieked 
in  chorus,  alarmed  by  the  reiterated  sound  of  human 
voices,  Avhere  they  had  seldom  been  heard. 

On  the  verge  of  the  precipice  an  anxious  group  had 
now  assembled.  Oldbuck  was  the  foremost  and  most 
earnest,  pressing  forward  with  unwonted  desperation  to 
the  very  brink  of  the  crag,  and  extending  his  head  (his 


246  STORM,  AND  PERILOUS  SITUATION 

hat  and  wig  secured  by  a  handkerchief  under  his  chin) 
over  the  dizzy  height,  with  an  air  of  determination 
which  made  his  more  timorous  assistants  tremble. 

"Mind  the  peak  there,"  cried  Mucklebackit,  an  old 
fisherman  and  smuggler — "mind  the  peak — Steenie, 
Steenie  Wilks,  bring  up  the  tackle — I'se  warrant  we'll 
sune  heave  them  on  board,  Monkbarns,  wad  ye  but 
stand  out  o'  the  gate." 

"I  see  them,"  said  Oldbuck,  "I  see  them  low  down 
on  that  flat  stone — Hilli-hilloa,  hilli-ho-a  !" 

"I  see  them  mysel  weel  eneugh,"  said  Mucklebackit; 
"  they  are  sitting  down  yonder  like  hoodie-craws  in  a 
mist;  but  d'  ye  think  ye  '11  help  them  wi'  skirling  that 
gate  like  an  auld  skart  before  a  flaw  o'  weather? — 
Steenie,  lad,  bring  up  the  mast — Odd,  I'se  hae  them  up 
as  we  used  to  bouse  up  the  kegs  o'  gin  and  brandy  lang 
syne — Get  up  the  pick-axe,  make  a  step  for  the  mast — 
make  the  chair  fast  with  the  rattlin — haul  taught  and 
belay !" 

The  fishers  had  brought  with  them  the  mast  of  a 
boat,  and  as  half  of  the  country  fellows  about  had  now 
appeared,  either  out  of  zeal  or  curiosity,  it  was  soon 
sunk  in  the  ground,  and  sufficiently  secured.  A  yard, 
across  the  upright  mast,  and  a  rope  stretched  along  it, 
and  reeved  through  a  block  at  each  end,  formed  an  ex- 
tempore crane,  which  aflbrded  the  means  of  lowering 
an  arm-chair,  well  secured  and  fastened,  down  to  the 
flat  shelf  on  which  the  sufferers  had  roosted.  Their 
joy  at  hearing  the  preparations  going  on  for  their  deliv- 
erance was  considerably  qualified  when  they  beheld  the 
precarious  vehicle,  by  means  of  which  they  were  to  be 
conveyed  to  upper  air.     It  swung  about  a  yard  free  of 


BV  THE  SEA-SIDE.  247 

the  spot  which  they  occupied,  obeying  each  impulse  of 
the  tempest,  tlie  empty  air  all  around  it,  and  depending 
upon  the  security  of  a  rope,  which,  in  the  increasing 
darkness,  liad  dwindled  to  an  almost  imperceptible 
thread.  Besides  the  hazard  of  committing  a  human 
being  to  the  vacant  atmosphere  in  such  a  slight  means 
of  conveyance,  there  was  the  fearful  danger  of  the  chair 
and  its  occupant  being  dashed,  either  by  the  wind  or  the 
vibrations  of  tlie  cord,  against  the  rugged  face  of  the 
precipice.  But  to  diminish  the  risk  as  much  as  possi 
ble,  the  experienced  seaman  had  let  down  with  the  chair 
another  line,  which,  being  attached  to  it,  and  held  by 
the  persons  beneath,  might  serve  by  way  of  guy,  as 
Mucklebackit  expressed  it,  to  render  its  ascent  in  some 
measure  steady  and  regular.  Still  to  commit  one's  self 
in  such  a  vehicle,  through  a  howling  tempest  of  wind 
and  rain,  with  a  beetling  precipice  above,  and  a  raging 
abyss  below,  required  that  courage  which  despair  alone 
can  inspire.  Yet  wild  as  the  sounds  and  sights  of  dan- 
ger were,  both  above,  beneath,  and  around,  and  doubtful 
and  dangerous  as  the  mode  of  escaping  appeared  lo  be, 
Lovel,  and  the  old  mendicant  agreed,  after  a  moment's 
consultation,  and  after  the  former,  by  a  sudden  strong 
pull,  had,  at  his  own  imminent  risk,  ascertained  the  se- 
curity of  the  rope,  that  it  would  be  best  to  secure  Miss 
Wardour  in  the  chair,  and  trust  to  tlie  tenderness  and 
care  of  those  above  for  her  being  safely  craned  up  to 
the  top  of  the  crag. 

"  Let  my  father  go   first,"   exclaimed  Isabella;    "for 
God's  sake,  my  friends,  place  him  first  in  safety." 

"  It  cannot  be,  Miss  Wardour,"  said  Lovel ;  "  your 


248  STORM,  AND  PERILOUS  SITUATION 

life  must  be  first  secured — the  rope  which  bears  your 
weight  may" — 

"  I  will  not  listen  to  a  reason  so  selfish  !" 
"  But  ye  maun  listen  to  it,  my  bonnie  lassie,"  said 
Ochiltree,  "for  a'  our  lives  depend  on  it — besides, 
when  ye  get  on  the  tap  o'  the  heugh  yonder,  ye  can 
gie  them  a  round  guess  o'  what's  ganging  on  in  this 
Patmos  o'  ours — and  Sir  Arthur's  far  by  that,  as  I  am 
thinking." 

Struck  with  the  truth  of  this  reasoning,  she  ex- 
claimed, "  True,  most  true  ;  I  am  ready  and  willing 
to  undertake  the  first  risk — What  shall  I  say  to  our 
friends  above?" 

"  Just  to  look  that  their  tackle  does  not  graze  on 
the  face  of  the  craig,  and  to  let  the  chair  down  and 
draw  it  up  hooly  and  fairly — we  will  halloo  when  we 
are  ready." 

With  the  sedulous  attention  of  a  parent  to  a  child, 
Lovel  bound  Miss  Wardour  with  his  handkerchief, 
neckcloth,  and  the  mendicant's  leathern  belt,  to  the 
back  and  arms  of  the  chair,  ascertaining  accurately  the 
security  of  each  knot,  while  Ochiltree  kept  Sir  Arthur 
quiet. 

"  Farewell,  my  father,"  murmured  Isabella — "  fare- 
well, my — my  friends ;"  and,  shutting  her  eyes,  as 
Edie's  experience  recommended,  she  gave  the  signal 
to  Lovel,  and  he  to  those  who  were  above.  She  rose, 
while  the  chair  in  which  she  sate  was  kept  steady 
by  the  line  which  Lovel  managed  beneath.  With  a 
beating  heart  he  watched  the  flutter  of  her  white  dress, 
until  the  vehicle  was  on  a  level  with  the  brink  of  the 
precipice. 


AT  THE  SEA-SIDE.  249 

"  Canny  now,  lads,  canny  now  !"  exclaimed  old 
Mucklebackit,  who  acted  as  commodore  ;  swerve  the 
yard  abil — Now — there !  there  she  sits  safe  on  dry 
land  !" 

A  loud  shout  announced  the  successful  experiment  to 
her  fellow-sufferers  beneath,  who  replied  with  a  ready 
and  cheerful  halloo.  Monkbarns,  in  his  ecstacy  of  joy, 
stripped  his  great  coat  to  wrap  up  the  young  lady,  and 
would  have  pulled  off  his  coat  and  waistcoat  for  the 
same  purpose,  had  he  not  been  withheld  by  the  cautious 
Caxon.  "  Haud  a  care  o'  us,  your  honor  will  be  killed 
wi'  the  hoast — ye'U  no  get  out  o'  your  night-cowl  this 
fortnight — and  that  will  suit  us  unco  ill. — Na,  na, — 
there's  the  chariot  down  by,  let  twa  o'  the  folk  carry 
the  young  leddy  there." 

"You're  right,"  said  the  Antiquary,  re-adjusting  the 
sleeves  and  collar  of  his  coat,  "you're  right  Caxon: 
this  is  a  naughty  night  to  swim  in. — Miss  Wardour,  let 
me  convey  you  to  the  chariot." 

"  Not  for  worlds,  till  I  see  my  father  safe." 

[^Sir  Arthur  and  Ochillree  are  then  taken  tip.'] 

Lovel  ran  a  much  greater  risk  than  any  of  his  pre- 
cursors. His  weight  was  not  sufficient  to  render  his 
ascent  steady  amid  such  a  storm  of  wind,  and  he  swung 
like  an  agitated  pendulum  at  the  mortal  risk  of  being 
dashed  against  the  rocks.  But  he  was  young,  bold,  and 
active,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  the  beggar's  stout 
piked  staff,  which  he  had  retained  by  advice  of  the  pro- 
prietor, contrived  to  bear  himself  from  the  face  of  the 
precipice,  and  the  yet  more  hazardous  projecting  cliffs 

VOL.  II. — 17 


250  FISHERWOMEN. 

which  varied  its  surface.  Tossed  in  empty  space,  like 
an  idle  and  unsubstantial  feather,  with  a  motion  that 
agitated  the  brain  at  once  with  fear  and  with  dizziness, 
he  retained  his  alertness  of  exertion  and  presence  of 
mind  ;  and  it  was  not  until  he  was  safely  grounded  upon 
the  summit  of  the  cliff,  that  he  felt  temporary  and  giddy 
sickness.  As  he  recovered  from  a  sort  of  half  swoon, 
he  cast  his  eyes  eagerly  around.  The  object  which 
they  would  most  willingly  have  sought,  was  already 
in  the  act  of  vanishing.  Her  white  garment  was  just 
discernible  as  she  followed  on  the  path  which  her  fa- 
ther had  taken. 


FISHERWOMEN. 

Upon  the  links  or  downs  close  to  them,  were  seen 
four  or  five  huts  inhabited  by  fishers,  whose  boats,  drawn 
high  upon  the  beach,  lent  the  odoriferous  vapors  of  pitch 
melting  under  a  burning  sun,  to  contend  with  those  of 
the  offals  of  fish  and  other  nuisances,  usually  collected 
round  Scottish  cottages.  Undisturbed  by  these  com- 
plicated steams  of  abomination,  a  middle-aged  woman, 
with  a  face  which  had  defied  a  thousand  storms,  sat 
mendiiiiT  a  net  at  the  door  of  one  of  the  cottages.  A 
handkerchief  close  bound  about  her  Isead,  and  a  coat 
which  had  formerly  been  that  of  a  man,  gave  her  a  mas- 
culine air,  which  was  increased  by  her  strength,  uncom- 
mon stature,  and  harsh  voice.     "  What  are  ye  for  the 


FISIIERWOMEN.  251 

day,  your  honor?"  she  said,  or  rather  screamed,  to 
Oldbiick  ;  "caller  haddocks  and  whitings — a  bannock- 
fluke  and  a  cock-paddle." 

"  How  much  for  the  bannock-fluke  and  cock-paddle  ?" 
demanded  the  Antiquary, — "  Four  white  shillings  and 
saxpence,"  answered  tlie  Naiad. 

"  Four  devils  and  six  of  their  imps  !"  retorted  the 
Antiquary  ;  "  do  ye  think  I  am  mad,  Maggie  ?" — "  And 
div  ye  think,"  rejoined  the  virago,  setting  her  arms  a- 
kimbo,  "  that  my  man  and  my  sons  are  to  gae  to  the 
sea  in  weather  like  yestreen  and  the  day — sic  a  sea  as 
it's  yet  outby — and  get  naething  for  their  fish,  and  be 
misca'd  into  the  bargain,  Monkbarns  ?  It's  no  fish 
ye're  buying — it's  men's  lives." 

"  Well,  Maggie,  I'll  bid  you  fair — I'll  bid  you  a 
shilling  for  the  fluke  and  the  cock-paddle,  or  sixpence 
separately — and  if  all  your  fish  are  as  well  paid,  I  think 
your  man,  as  you  call  him,  and  your  sons,  will  make  a 
good  voyage." 

"  Deil  gin  their  boat  were  knocket  against  the  Bell- 
Rock  rather!  it  wad  be  better,  and  the  bonnier  voyage 
o'  the  twa.  A  shilling  for  thae  twa  bonny  fish  !  Od, 
that's  ane  indeed  !" 

"  Well,  well,  you  old  beldame,  carry  your  fish  up  to 
Monkbarns,  and  see  what  my  sister  will  give  you  for 
them." 

"  Na,  na,  Monkbarns — I'll  rather  deal  wi'  yoursell ; 
for,  though  you're  near  eneugh,  yet  Miss  Grizel  has  an 
unco  close  grip — I'll  gie  ye  them  (in  a  softened  tone) 
for  three-and-saxpence." 

"Eighteen-pence,  or  nothing!" — "Eighteen-pence  ! !" 
(in  a  loud  tone  of  astonishment,  which  declined  into  a 


252  FISHERWOMEN. 

sort  of  rueful  whine,  when  the  dealer  turned  as  if  to 
walk  away) — "  Ye'll  no  be  for  the  fish  then  ?" — (then 
louder  as  she  saw  him  moving  ofT) — "  I'll  gie  them — 
and — and — and  a  half-dozen  o'  partans  to  make  the 
sauce,  for  three  shillings  and  a  dram." 

"  Half-a-crown  tlien,  Maggie,  and  a  dram."  "  Aweel, 
your  honor  maun  hae't  your  ain  gate,  nae  doubt; 
but  a  dram's  worth  siller  now — the  distilleries  is  no 
working." 

"  And  I  hope  they'll  never  work  again  in  my  time," 
said  Oldbuck. 

"  Ay,  ay — it's  easy  for  your  honor,  and  the  like  o' 
you  gentle-folks,  to  say  sae,  that  hae  stouth  and  routh, 
and  fire  and  fending,  and  meat  and  claith,  and  sit  dry 
and  canny  by  the  fire-side — but  an  ye  wanted  fire,  and 
meat,  and  dry  claise,  and  were  deeing  o'  cauld,  and  had 
a  sair  heart,  whilk  is  warst  ava',  wi'  just  tippence  in 
your  pouch,  wadna  ye  be  glad  to  buy  a  dram  wi't,  to 
be  eikling  and  claise,  and  a  supper  and  a  heart's  ease 
into  the  bargain,  till  the  morn's  morning?" 

"  It's  even  too  true  an  apology,  Maggie.  Is  your 
good  man  oft'  to  sea  this  morning,  after  his  exertions 
last  night  ?" 

"  In  troth  is  he,  Monkbarns ;  he  was  awa  this  morn- 
ing by  four  o'clock,  when  the  sea  w-as  working  like 
barm  wi'  yestreen's  wind,  and  our  bit  coble  dancing  in't 
like  a  cork." 

"  Well,  he's  an  industrious  fellow.  Carry  the  fish 
lip  to  Monkbarns." 

"  That  I  will — or-  I'll  send  little  Jenny,  she'll  ria 
faster,  but  I'll  ca'  on  Miss  Grizy  for  the  dram  myseil, 
and  say  ye  sent  me." 


THE  YOUNG  FISIIERMAn's  FUNERAL.  253 

A  nondescript  animal,  which  might  have  passed  for 
a  mermaid,  as  it  was  paddling  in  a  pool  among  the 
rocks,  was  summoned  ashore  by  the  shrill  screams  of 
its  dam  :  and  having  been  made  decent,  as  her  mother 
called  it,  which  was  performed  by  adding  a  short  red 
cloak  to  a  petticoat,  which  was  at  first  her  sole  cover- 
ing, and  which  reached  scantily  below  her  knee,  the 
child  was  dismissed  with  the  fish  in  a  basket,  and  a  re- 
quest on  the  part  of  Monkbarns,  that  they  might  be  pre- 
pared for  dinner. 


THE 


YOUNG    FISHERMAN'S   FUNERAL. 

Tell  me  not  of  it,  friend — when  the  young  weep, 
Their  tears  are  luke-warni  brine ; — from  our  old  eyes 
Sorrow  falls  down  like  hail-drops  of  the  North, 
Chilling  the  furrows  of  our  wither'd  cheeks, 
Cold  as  our  hopes,  and  harden'd  as  our  feeling — 
Theirs,  as  they  fall,  sink  sightless — ours  recoil, 
Heap  the  fair  plain,  and  Weaken  all  before  us. 

Old  Play. 

The  Antiquary  soon  arrived  before  the  half-dozen 
cottages  at  Mussel-crag.  They  now  had,  in  addition 
to  their  usual  squalid  and  uncomfortable  appearance, 
the  melancholy  attributes  of  the  house  of  mourning. 
The    boats   were   all  drawn  up   on  the  beach ;    and, 


254  THE  YOUNG  FISHERMAn's  FUNERAL. 

though  the  day  was  fine,  and  the  season  favorable,  the 
chant,  which  is  used  by  the  fishers  when  at  sea,  was 
silent,  as  well  as  the  prattle  of  the  children,  and  the 
shrill  song  of  the  mother,  as  she  sits  mending  her  nets 
by  the  door.  A  few  of  the  neighbors,  some  in  their 
antique  and  well-saved  suits  of  black,  others  in  their 
ordinary  clothes,  but  all  bearing  an  expression  of  mourn- 
ful sympathy  with  distress  so  sudden  and  unexpected, 
stood  gathered  around  the  door  of  Mucklebackit's  cot- 
tage, waiting  till  "the  body  was  lifted."  As  the  Laird 
of  Monkbarns  approached,  they  made  way  for  him  to 
enter,  dofling  their  hats  and  bonnets  as  he  passed,  with 
an  air  of  melancholy  courtesy,  and  he  returned  their 
salutes  in  the  same  manner. 

In  the  inside  of  the  cottage  was  a  scene,  which  our 
Wilkie  alone  could  have  painted,  with  that  exquisite 
feeling  of  nature  that  characterizes  his  enchanting  pro- 
ductions. 

The  body  was  laid  in  its  coffin  within  the  wooden 
bedstead  which  the  young  fisher  had  occupied  while 
alive.  At  a  little  distance  stood  the  father,  whose  rugged 
weather-beaten  countenance,  shaded  by  his  grizzled 
hair,  had  faced  many  a  stormy  night  and  night-like 
day.  He  was  apparently  revolving  his  loss  in  his  mind 
with  that  strong  feeling  of  painful  grief,  peculiar  to 
harsh  and  rough  characters,  which  almost  breaks  forth 
into  hatred  against  the  world,  and  all  that  remain  in  it, 
after  the  beloved  object  is  withdrawn.  The  old  man 
had  made  the  most  desperate  efforts  to  save  his  son, 
and  had  only  been  withheld  by  main  force  from  renew- 
ing them  at  a  moment,  when,  without  the  possibility  of 
assisting  the  sufferer,  he  must  himself  have  perished. 


THE  YOUNG  ftsiierman's  funehal.  255 

All  this  apparently  was  boiling  in  his  recollection.  His 
glance  was  directed  sidelong  towards  the  coffin,  as  to 
an  object  on  which  he  could  not  steadfastly  look,  and 
yet  from  which  he  could  not  withdraw  his  eyes.  His 
answers  to  the  necessary  questions  which  were  occasion- 
ally put  to  him,  were  brief,  harsh,  and  almost  tierce. 

In  another  corner  of  the  cottage,  her  face  covered 
by  her  apron,  which  was  flung  over  it,  sat  the  mother, 
the  nature  of  her  grief  sufficiendy  indicated,  by  the 
wrinffingr  of  her  hands,  and  the  convulsive  agitation 
of  the  bosom  which  the  covering  could  not  conceal. 
Two  of  her  gossips,  officiously  whispering  into  her 
ear  the  common-place  topic  of  resignation  under  irre- 
mediable misfortune,  seemed  as  if  they  were  endea- 
voring to  stun  the  grief  which  they  could  not  console. 

The  sorrow  of  the  children  was  mingled  with  won- 
der at  the  preparations  they  beheld  around  them,  and  at 
the  unusual  display  of  wheaten  bread  and  wine,  which  the 
poorest  peasant,  or  fisher,  offers  to  the  guests  on  these 
mournful  occasions;  and  thus  their  grief  for  their  bro- 
ther's death  was  almost  already  lost  in  admiration  of 
the  splendor  of  his  funeral. 

But  the  figure  of  the  old  grandmother  was  the  most 
remarkable  of  the  sorrowing  group.  Seated  on  her 
accustomed  chair,  with  her  usual  air  of  apathy,  and 
want  of  interest  in  what  surrounded  her,  she  seemed 
every  now  and  then  mechanically  to  resume  the  motion 
of  twirling  her  spindle — then  to  look  towards  her  bosom 
for  the  distafi",  although  bodi  had  been  laid  aside — She 
would  then  cast  her  eyes  about  as  if  surprised  at  miss- 
ing the  usual  implements  of  her  industry,  and  appear 
struck  by  the  black  color  of  the  gown  in  which  they 


256  THE  YOUNG  FISHERMAN's  FUNERAL. 

had  dressed  her,  and  embarrassed  by  the  number  of  per- 
sons by  whom  she  was  surrounded — then,  finally,  she 
would  raise  her  head  with  a  ghasUy  look,  and  fix  her 
eyes  upon  the  bed  which  contained  the  coffin  of  her 
grandson,  as  if  she  had  at  once,  and  for  the  first  time, 
acquired  sense  to  comprehend  her  inexpressible  calam- 
ity. These  alternate  feelings  of  embarrassment,  wonder, 
and  grief,  seemed  to  succeed  each  other  more  than  once 
upon  her  torpid  features.  But  she  spoke  not  a  word, 
neither  had  she  shed  a  tear ;  nor  did  one  of  the  family 
understand  either  from  look  or  expression,  to  what  ex- 
tent she  comprehended  the  uncommon  bustle  around 
her.  Thus  she  sat  among  the  funeral  assembly  like  a 
connecting  link  between  the  surviving  mourners  and 
the  dead  corpse  which  they  bewailed — a  being  in  whom 
the  light  of  existence  was  already  obscured  by  the  en- 
croaching shadows  of  death. 

When  Oldbuck  entered  this  house  of  mourning,  he 
was  received  by  a  general  and  silent  inclination  of  the 
head,  and  according  to  the  fashion  of  Scotland  on  such 
occasions,  wine  and  spirits  and  bread  were  offered  round 
to  the  guests.  Elspeth,  as  these  refreshments  were  pre- 
sented, surprised  and  startled  the  whole  company  by 
motioning  to  the  person  who  bore  them  to  stop ;  then, 
taking  a  glass  in  her  hand,  she  rose  up,  and,  as  the 
smile  of  dotage  played  upon  her  shriveled  features, 
she  pronounced,  with  a  hollow  and  tremulous  voice, 
"  Wishing  a'  your  healths,  sirs,  and  often  may  we  hae 
such  merry  meetings  !" 

All  shrunk  from  the  ominous  pledge,  and  sat  down 
the  untasted  liquor  with  a  degree  of  shuddering  horror, 
which  Avill  not  surprise  those  who  know  how  many 


THE  YOUNG  FISHERMAN's  FUNERAL.  257 

superstitions  are  still  common  on  such  occasions  among 
the  Scottish  vulgar.  But  as  the  old  woman  tasted  the 
liquor,  she  suddenly  exclaimed  with  a  sort  of  shriek, 
"What's  this? — this  is  wine — how  should  there  be 
wine  in  my  son's  house? — Ay,"  she  continued  with  a 
suppressed  groan,  "  I  mind  the  sorrowful  cause  now," 
and,  dropping  the  glass  from  her  hand,  she  stood  a  mo- 
ment gazing  fixedly  on  the  bed  in  which  the  coffin  of 
her  grandson  was  deposited,  and  then  sinking  gradually 
into  her  seat,  she  covered  her  eyes  and  forehead  with 
her  withered  and  pallid  hand. 

At  this  moment  the  clergyman  entered  the  cottage. 
He  edged  himself  towards  the  unfortunate  father,  and 
seemed  to  endeavor  to  slide  in  a  few  words  of  condolence 
or  of  consolation.  But  the  old  man  was  incapable  as 
yet  of  receiving  either ;  he  nodded,  however,  gruffly, 
and  shook  the  clergyman's  hand  in  acknowledment  of 
his  good  intentions,  but  was  either  unable  or  iinwilling 
to  make  any  verbal  reply. 

The  minister  next  passed  to  the  mother,  moving  along 
the  floor  as  slowly,  silently,  and  gradually,  as  if  he  had 
been  afraid  that  the  ground  would,  like  unsafe  ice,  break 
beneath  his  feet,  or  that  the  first  echo  of  a  footstep  was 
to  dissolve  some  magic  spell,  and  plunge  the  hut,  with 
all  its  inmates,  into  a  subterranean  abyss.  The  tenor 
of  what  he  had  said  to  the  poor  woman  could  only  be 
judged  by  her  answers,  as,  half-stifled  by  sobs  ill-re- 
pressed, and  by  the  covering  which  she  still  kept  over 
her  countenance,  she  faintly  answered  at  each  pause  in 
his  speech — "  Yes,  sir,  yes  ! — Ye're  very  gude — ye're 
very  gude  ! — Nae  doubt,  nae  doubt! — It's  our  duty  to 
submit!  —  But,  O  dear,  my  poor  Steenie,  the  pride  o' 


258  THE  YOUNG  FISHERMAn's  FUNERAL. 

my  very  heart,  that  was  sae  handsome  and  comely,  and 
a  help  to  his.  family,  and  a  comfort  to  us  a',  and  a  plea- 
sure to  a'  that  lookit  on  him  ! — O  my  bairn,  my  bairn, 
my  bairn  !  what  for  is  thou  lying  there,  and  eh  !  what 
for  am  I  left  to  greet  for  ye  !" 

There  was  no  contending  with  this  burst  of  sorrow 
and  natural  affection.  Oldbuck  had  repeated  recourse 
to  his  snuff-box  to  conceal  the  tears  which,  despite  his 
shrewd  and  caustic  temper,  were  apt  to  start  on  such 
occasions.  The  female  assistants  whimpered,  the  men 
held  their  bonnets  to  their  faces,  and  spoke  apart  with 
each  other.  In  the  meantime  the  funeral  company  was 
completed,  by  the  arrival  of  one  or  two  persons  who 
had  been  expected  from  Fairport.  The  wine  and  spirits 
again  circulated,  and  the  dumb  show  of  greeting  was 
anew  interchanged.  The  grandame  a  second  time  took 
a  glass  in  her  hand,  drank  its  contents,  and  exclaimed, 
with  a  sort  of  laugh, — "  Ha  !  ha  !  I  liae  tasted  wine 
twice  in  ae  day — Whan  did  I  that  before,  think  ye, 
cummers  ? — Never  since" — And  the  transient  glow 
vanishing  from  her  countenance,  she  set  the  glass  down, 
and  sunk  upon  the  settle  from  whence  she  had  risen  to 
snatch  at  it. 

As  the  general  amazement  subsided,  Mr.  Oldbuck, 
whose  heart  bled  to  witness  what  he  considered  as  the 
errings  of  the  enfeebled  intellect  strugging  with  the  tor- 
pid chill  of  age  and  of  sorrow,  observed  to  the  clergy- 
man that  it  was  time  to  proceed  with  the  ceremony. 
The  father  was  incapable  of  giving  directions,  but  the 
nearest  relation  of  the  family  made  a  sign  to  the  car- 
penter, who  in  such  cases  goes  through  the  duty  of  the 
undertaker,  to  proceed  in  his  office.     The  creak  of  the 


THE  YOUNG  FISHERMAN's  FUNERAL.  259 

screw-nails  presently  announced  that  the  lid  of  the  last 
mansion  of  mortality  was  in  the  act  of  being  secured 
above  its  tenant.  The  last  act  which  separates  us  for 
ever,  even  from  the  mortal  relics  of  the  person  we  as- 
semble to  mourn,  has  usually  its  effect  upon  the  most 
indifferent,  selfish,  and  hard-hearted.  With  a  spirit  of 
contradiction,  which  we  may  be  pardoned  for  esteem- 
ing narrow-minded,  the  fathers  of  the  Scottish  kirk  re- 
jected, even  on  this  most  solemn  occasion,  the  form  of 
an  address  to  the  Divinity,  lest  they  should  be  thought 
to  give  countenance  to  the  rituals  of  Rome  or  of  Eng- 
land. With  much  better  and  more  liberal  judgment,  it 
is  the  present  practice  of  most  of  the  Scottish  clergy- 
men to  seize  this  opportunity  of  offering  a  prayer,  and 
exhortation,  suitable  to  make  an  impression  upon  the 
living,  while  they  are  yet  in  the  very  presence  of  the 
relics  of  him,  whom  they  have  but  lately  seen  such  as 
they  themselves,  and  who  now  is  such  as  they  must  in 
their  time  become.  But  this  decent  and  praiseworthy 
practice  was  not  adopted  at  the  time  of  which  I  am 
treating,  and  the  ceremony  proceeded  without  any  de- 
votional exercise. 

The  coffin,  covered  with  a  pall,  and  supported  upon 
handspikes,  by  the  nearest  relatives,  now  only  waited 
the  father  to  support  the  head,  as  is  customary.  Two 
or  three  of  these  privileged  persons  spoke  to  him,  but 
he  only  answered  by  shaking  his  hand  and  his  head  in 
token  of  refusal.  With  better  intention  than  judgment, 
the  friends,  who  considered  this  as  an  act  of  duty  on 
the  part  of  the  living,  and  of  decency  towards  the  de- 
ceased, would  have  proceeded  to  enforce  their  request, 
had  not   Oldbuck    interfered   between   the    distressed 


260  THE  YOUNG  FISHERMAn's  FUNERAL. 

father  and  his  well-meaning  tormentors,  and  informed 
them,  that  he  himself,  as  landlord  and  master  to  the  de- 
ceased, "  would  carry  his  head  to  the  grave."  In  spite 
of  the  sorrowful  occasion,  the  hearts  of  the  relatives 
swelled  wiiliin  them  at  so  marked  a  distinction  on  the 
part  of  the  laird  ;  and  old  Alison  Breck,  who  was  pre- 
sent among  other  fish-women,  swore  almost  aloud, 
"  His  honor  Monkbarns  should  never  want  sax  warp  of 
oysters  in  the  season  (of  which  fish  he  was  understood 
to  be  fond),  if  she  should  gang  to  sea  and  dredge  for 
them  hersell,  in  the  foulest  wind  that  ever  blew."  And 
such  is  the  temper  of  the  Scottish  common  people, 
that,  by  this  instance  of  compliance  with  their  customs, 
and  respect  for  their  persons,  Mr.  Oldbuck  gained  more 
popularity  than  by  all  the  sums  which  he  had  yearly 
distributed  in  the  parish  for  purposes  of  private  or  gene- 
ral charity. 

The  sad  procession  now  moved  slowly  forward,  pre- 
ceded by  the  beadles,  or  saulies,  with  their  batons, — 
miserable-looking  old  men,  tottering  as  if  on  the  edge 
of  that  grave  to  which  they  were  marshaling  another, 
and  clad,  according  to  Scottish  guise,  with  threadbare 
black  coats,  and  hunting-caps,  decorated  with  rusty 
crape.  Monkbarns  would  probably  have  remonstrated 
against  this  superfluous  expense,  had  he  been  consulted ; 
but  in  doing  so,  he  would  have  given  more  ofl^ence  than 
he  gained  popularity  by  condescending  to  perform  the 
office  of  chief  mourner.  Of  this  he  was  quite  aware, 
and  wisely  withheld  rebuke,  where  rebuke  and  advice 
would  have  been  equally  unavailing.  In  truth,  the 
Scottish  peasantry  are  still  infected  with  that  rage  for 
funeral  ceremonial,  which  once  distinguished  the  gran- 


THE  YOUNG   FISHEIIMAN's  FUNERAL.  261 

dees  of  the  kingdom  so  much,  that  a  sumptuary  law 
was  made  by  the  Parliament  of  Scotland  for  the  purpose 
of  restraining  it ;  and  1  iiave  known  many  in  the  lowest 
stations,  who  have  denied  themselves  not  merely  the 
comforts,  but  almost  the  necessaries  of  life,  in  order  to 
save  such  a  sum  of  money  as  might  enable  their  sur- 
viving friends  to  bury  them  like  Christians,  as  they 
termed  it;  nor  could  their  faithful  executors  be  pre- 
vailed upon,  though  equally  necessitous,  to  turn  to  the 
use  and  maintenance  of  the  living,  the  money  vainly 
wasted  upon  the  interment  of  the  dead. 

The  procession  to  the  churchyard,  at  about  half-a- 
mile's  distance,  was  made  with  the  mournful  solemnity 
usual  on  these  occasions, — the  body  was  consigned  to 
its  parent  earth, — and  when  the  labor  of  the  grave-dig- 
gers had  tilled  up  the  trench,  and  covered  it  with  fresh 
sod,  Mr.  Oldbuck,  taking  his  hat  off,  saluted  the  assist- 
ants, who  had  stood  by  in  melancholy  silence,  and  with 
that  adieu  dispersed  the  mourners. 

The  clergyman  offered  our  Antiquary  his  company 
to  walk  homeward ;  but  Mr.  Oldbuck  had  been  so  much 
struck  with  the  deportment  of  the  fisherman  and  his 
mother,  that,  moved  by  compassion,  and  perhaps  also, 
in  some  degree,  by  that  curiosity  which  induces  us  to 
seek  out  even  what  gives  us  pain  to  witness,  he  prefer- 
red a  solitary  Avalk  by  the  coast,  for  the  purpose  of 
again  visiting  the  cottage  as  he  passed. 

The  coffin  had  been  borne  from  the  place  where  it 
rested.  The  mourners,  in  regular  gradation,  according 
to  their  rank  or  their  relationship  to  the  deceased,  had 
filed  from  the  cottage,  while  the  younger  male  children 
were  led  along  to  totter  after  the  bier  of  their  brother, 


262  THE  YOUNG  FISHERMAN's  FUNERAL. 

and  to  view  with  wonder  a  ceremonial  which  they  could 
hardly  comprehend.  The  female  gossips  next  rose  to 
depart,  and,  with  consideration  for  the  situation  of  the 
parents,  carried  along  with  them  the  girls  of  the  family, 
to  give  the  unhappy  pair  time  and  opportunity  to  open 
their  hearts  to  each  other,  and  soften  their  grief  by 
communicating  it.  But  their  kind  intention  was  with- 
out effect.  The  last  of  them  had  darkened  the  entrance 
of  the  cottage,  as  she  went  out,  and  drawn  the  door 
softly  behind  her,  when  the  father,  first  ascertaining  by  a 
hasty  glance  that  no  stranger  remained,  started  up, 
clasped  his  hands  wildly  above  his  head,  uttered  a  cry 
of  the  despair  which  he  had  hitherto  repressed,  and,  in 
all  the  impotent  impatience  of  grief,  half  rushed,  half 
staggered  forward  to  the  bed  on  which  tlie   coffin   had 

DO 

been  deposited,  threw  himself  down  upon  it,  and  smo- 
thering, as  it  were,  his  head  among  the  bed-clothes,  gave 
vent  to  the  full  passion  of  his  sorrow.  It  was  in  vain 
that  the  wretched  mother,  terrified  by  the  vehemence 
of  her  husband's  affliction — affliction  still  more  fearful 
as  ajjitatinc  a  man  of  hardened  manners  and  a  robust 
frame — suppressed  her  own  sobs  and  tears,  and  pulling 
him  by  the  skirts  of  his  coat,  implored  him  to  rise  and 
remember,  that,  though  one  was  removed,  he  had  still  a 
wife  and  children  to  comfort  and  support.  Tiie  appeal 
came  at  too  early  a  period  of  his  anguish,  and  was  to- 
tally unattended  to ;  he  continued  to  remain  prostrate, 
indicating,  by  sobs  so  bitter  and  violent  that  they  shook 
the  bed  and  partition  against  which  it  rested,  by  clench- 
ed hands  which  grasped  the  bed-clothes,  and  by  the  ve- 
hement and  convulsive  motion  of  his  legs,  how  deep 
and  how  terrible  was  the  agony  of  a  father's  sorrow. 


THE  YOUNG  FISHEKMAn's  FUNERAL.  263 

• 

"  O,  what  a  day  is  this!  what  a  clay  is  this!"  said 
the  poor  mother,  her  womanish  affliction  already  ex- 
hausted by  sobs  and  tears,  and  now  almost  lost  in  terror 
for  the  state  in  which  she  beheld  her  husband ;  "  O, 
what  an  hour  is  this  !  and  naebody  to  help  a  poor  lone 
woman — O,  gudemilher,  could  ye  but  speak  a  word  to 
him! — wad  ye  but  bid  him  be  comforted  !" 

To  her  astonishment,  and  even  to  the  increase  of  her 
fear,  her  husband's  mother  heard  and  answered  the 
appeal.  She  rose  and  walked  across  the  floor  without 
support,  and  without  much  apparent  feebleness,  and 
standing  by  the  bed  on  which  her  son  had  extended 
himself,  she  said,  "  Rise  up,  my  son,  and  sorrow  not 
for  him  that  is  beyond  sin,  and  sorrow,  and  temptation- 
Sorrow  is  for  those  that  remain  in  this  vale  of  sorrow 
and  darkness — I,  wha  dinna  sorrow,  and  wha  canna 
sorrow  for  ony  ane,  hae  maist  need  that  ye  should  a' 
sorrow  for  me." 

The  voice  of  his  mother,  not  heard  for  years  as  taking 
part  in  the  active  duties  of  life,  or  offering  advice  or 
consolation,  produced  its  effect  upon  her  son.  He  as- 
sumed a  sitting  posture  on  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  his 
appearance,  attitude,  and  gestures,  changed  from  those 
of  angry  despair  to  deep  grief  and  dejection.  The 
grandmother  retired  to  her  nook,  the  mother  mechani- 
cally took  in  her  hand  her  tattered  Bible,  and  seemed 
to  read,  though  her  eyes  were  drowned  with  tears. 

The  Antiquary,  as  we  informed  the  reader,  preferred 
a  solitary  path,  which  again  conducted  him  to  the  cottage 
of  Mucklebackit.  When  he  came  in  front  of  the  fisher- 
man's hut,  he  observed  a  man  working  intently,  as  if  to 
repair  a  shattered  boat  which  lay  upon  the  beach,  and, 


264  THE  YOUNG  FISHERMAN's  FUNERAL. 

going  up  to  him,  was  surprised  to  find  it  was  Muckle- 
backit  himself.  "  I  am  glad,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  sym- 
pathy, "  I  am  glad,  Saunders,  that  you  feel  yourself 
able  to  make  this  exertion." 

"  And  what  would  ye  have  me  to  do,"  answered  the 
fisher  gruffly,  "  unless  1  wanted  to  see  four  children 
starve,  because  ane  is  drowned  ?  It's  weel  wi'  you 
gentles,  that  can  sit  in  the  house  wi'  handkerchers  at 
your  een  when  ye  lose  a  friend  ;  but  the  like  o'  us  maun 
to  our  wark  again,  if  our  hearts  were  beating  as  hard  as 
my  hammer." 

Without  taking  more  notice  of  Oldbuck  he  proceeded 
in  his  labor;  and  the  Antiquary,  to  whom  the  display 
of  human  nature  under  tlie  influence  of  agitating  passions 
was  never  indifferent,  stood  beside  him,  in  silent  atten- 
tion, as  if  watching  the  progress  of  the  work.  He 
observed  more  than  once  the  man's  hard  features,  as  if 
by  the  force  of  association,  prepare  to  accompany  the 
sound  of  the  saw  and  hammer  with  his  usual  symphony 
of  a  rude  tune  hummed  or  whistled,  and  as  often  a  slight 
twitch  of  convulsive  expression  showed  that,  ere  the 
sound  was  uttered,  a  cause  for  suppressing  it  rushed 
upon  his  mind.  At  length,  when  he  had  patched  a  con- 
siderable rent,  and  was  beginning  to  mend  another,  his 
feelings  appeared  altogether  to  derange  the  power  of 
attention  necessary  for  his  work.  The  piece  of  wood 
which  he  was  about  to  nail  on  was  at  first  too  long; 
then  he  sawed  it  off  too  short;  then  chose  another 
equally  ill  adapted  for  the  purpose.  At  length,  throwing 
it  down  in  anger,  after  wiping  his  dim  eye  with  his 
quivering  hand,  he  exclaimed,  "  There  is  a  curse  either 
on  me  or  on  this  auld  black  boat,  that  I  have  hauled  up 


THE  YOUNG  FISIIERMAN's  FUNERAL.  265 

high  and  dry,  and  patched  and  clouted  sae  mony  years 
that  she  might  drown  my  poor  Steenie  at  the  end  of 
them,"  and  he  flung  his  hammer  against  the  boat,  as  if 
she  had  been  the  intentional  cause  of  his  misfortune. 
Then  recollecting  himself,  he  added, "  Yet  what  needs  ane 
be  angry  at  her,  that  has  neitlier  soul  nor  sense  ? — though 
I  am  no  that  muckle  better  mysell.  She's  but  a  rickle 
o'  auld  rotten  deals  nailed  thegither,  and  warped  wi'  the 
wind  and  the  sea — and  I  am  a  dour  carle,  battered  by 
foul  weather  at  sea  and  land  till  I  am  maist  as  senseless 
as  hersell.  She  maun  be  mended  though  a^ain'  the 
morning  tide — that's  a  thing  o'  necessity." 

Thus  speaking,  he  went  to  gather  together  his  instru- 
ments and  attempt  to  resume  his  labor,  but  Oldbuck 
took  him  kindly  by  the  arm.  "  Come,  come,"  he  said, 
"Saunders,  there  is  no  work  for  you  this  day — I'll  send 
down  Shavings  the  carpenter  to  mend  the  boat,  and  he 
may  put  the  day's  work  into  my  account — and  you  had 
better  not  come  out  to-morrow,  but  stay  to  comfort  your 
family  under  this  dispensation,  and  the  gardener  will 
bring  you  some  vegetables  and  meal  from  Monkbarns." 

"1  thank  ye,  Monkbarns,"  answered  the  poor  fisher; 
"I  am  a  plain-spoken  man,  and  hae  little  to  say  for 
mysell ;  I  might  hae  learned  fairer  fashions  frae  my 
mither  lang  syne,  but  I  never  saw  muckle  gude  they  did 
her;  however,  I  thank  ye.  Ye  were  aye  kind  and 
neighborly,  whatever  folk  says  o'  your  being  near  and 
close  ;  and  I  hae  often  said  in  tliae  times  when  they 
were  ganging  to  rise  up  the  puir  folk  against  the  gentles 
— I  hae  often  said,  ne'er  a  man  should  steer  a  hair 
touching  to  Monkbarns  while  Steenie  and  I  could  wag 
a  finger — and  so  said  Steenie  too.     And,  Monkbarns, 

VOL.  II. — 18 


266  SCENES  AT  ABBOTSFORD. 

when  ye  laid  his  head  in  the  grave,  (and  mony  thanks 
for  the  respect),  ye  saw  the  mouls  laid  on  an  honest  lad 
that  likit  you  weel,  though  he  made  little  phrase  about  it." 
Oldbuck,  beaten  from  the  pride  of  his  affected  cyni- 
cism, would  not  willingly  have  had  any  one  by  upon 
that  occasion  to  quote  to  him  his  favorite  maxims  of  the 
Stoic  philosophy.  The  large  drops  fell  fast  from  his 
own  eyes,  as  he  begged  the  father,  who  was  now  melted 
at  recollecting  the  bravery  and  generous  sentiments  of 
his  son,  to  forbear  useless  sorrow,  and  led  him  by  the 
arm  towards  his  own  home. 


SCENES  AT  ABBOTSFORD. 

THE    FLITTING,    MAY    25,    1812. 

This  being  the  term  of  removing,  I  am  under  the 
necessity  of  being  at  this  farm  to  superintend  the  trans- 
ference of  my  goods  and  chattels,  a  most  miscellaneous 
collection,  to  a  small  property,  about  five  miles  down 
the  Tweed,  which  I  purchased  last  year.  The  neigh- 
bors have  been  much  delighted  with  the  procession  of 
my  furniture,  in  which  old  swords,  bows,  targets,  and 
lances,  made  a  very  conspicuous  show.  A  family  of 
turkeys  was  accommodated  within  the  helmet  of  some 
preux  chevalier  of  ancient  Border  fame ;  and  the  very 
cows,  for  aught  I  know,  were  bearing  banners  and  mus- 
kets.   I  assure  your  Ladyship  that  this  caravan,  attend- 


SCENES  AT  ABBOTSFORD.  267 

ed  by  a  dozen  of  ragged  rosy  peasant  children,  carry- 
ing fishing-rods  and  spears,  and  leading  poneys,  grey- 
hounds, and  spaniels,  would,  as  it  crossed  the  Tweed, 
have  furnished  no  bad  subject  for  the  pencil,  and  really 
reminded  mc  of  one  of  the  gipsy  groups  of  Callot  upon 
their  march. 

RURAL    EMPLOYMENTS,    JANUARY    10,    1813. 

No  sooner  had  I  corrected  the  last  sheet  of  Rokeby, 
than  I  escaped  to  this  Patmos  as  blythe  as  bird  on  tree, 
and  have  been  ever  since  most  decidedly  idle — that  is 
to  say,  with  busy  idleness.  I  have  been  banking,  and 
securing,  and  dyking  against  the  river,  and  planting 
willows,  and  aspens,  and  weeping  birches,  around  my 
new  old  well,  which  I  think  I  told  you  I  had  constructed 
last  summer.  I  have  now  laid  the  foundations  of  a  fa- 
mous back-ground  of  copse,  with  pendant  trees  in  front ; 
and  I  have  only  to  beg  a  few  years  to  see  how  my  co- 
lors will  come  out  of  the  canvas.  Alas  !  who  can  pro- 
mise that  ?  But  somebody  will  take  my  place — and 
enjoy  them,  whether  I  do  or  no.  My  old  friend  and 
pastor.  Principal  Robertson  (the  historian),  when  he 
was  not  expected  to  survive  many  weeks,  still  watched 
the  setting  of  the  blossom  upon  some  fruit-trees  in  the 
garden,  with  as  much  interest  as  if  it  was  possible  he 
could  have  seen  the  fruit  come  to  maturity,  and  mo- 
ralized on  his  own  conduct,  by  observing  that  we  act 
upon  the  same  inconsistent  motive  throughout  life.  It 
is  well  we  do  so  for  those  that  are  to  come  after  us. 
I  could  almost  dislike  tlie  man  who  refuses  to  plant  wal- 


268  SCENES  AT  ABBOTSFORD. 

nut-trees,  because  they  do  not  bear  fruit  till  the  second 
generation. 

H0G3IANAY,    OR    NEW-YEAR's    EVE,    1818. 

I  have  limited  my  other  habits  of  expense  very  much 
since  I  fell  into  the  habit  of  employing  mine  honest 
people.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  about  a  hundred 
children,  being  almost  entirely  supported  by  their  fa- 
thers' or  brothers'  labor,  come  down  yesterday  to  dance 
to  the  pipes,  and  get  a  piece  of  cake  and  bannock,  and 
pence  a-piece  (no  very  deadly  largess)  in  honor  of  hog- 
manay. I  declare  to  you,  my  dear  friend,  that  when  I 
tliought  the  poor  fellows  who  kept  these  children  so 
neat,  and  well  taught,  and  well  behaved,  were  slaving 
the  whole  day  for  eighteen-pence  or  twenty-pence  at 
the  most,  I  was  ashamed  of  their  gratitude,  and  of  their 
becks  and  bows.  But,  after  all,  one  does  what  one  can, 
and  it  is  better  twenty  families  should  be  comfortable 
according  to  their  wishes  and  habits,  than  half  that  num- 
ber should  be  raised  above  their  situation.  Besides, 
like  Fortunio  in  the  fairy  tale,  I  have  my  gifted  men — 
the  best  wrestler  and  cudgel  player — the  best  runner 
and  leaper — the  best  shot  in  the  little  district ;  and  as  I 
am  partial  to  all  manly  and  athletic  exercises,  these  are 
great  favorites,  being  otherwise  decent  persons,  and  bear- 
ing their  faculties  meekly.  All  this  smells  of  sad  ego- 
tism, but  what  can  I  write  to  you  about,  save  what  is 
uppermost  in  my  own  thoughts  ;  and  here  am  I,  thin- 
ning old  plantations,  and  planting  new  ones ;  now  un- 
doing what  has  been  done,  and  now  doing  what  I  sup- 
pose no  one  would  do  but  myself,  ?nd  accomplishing 


SCENES  AT  ABBOTSFORD.  269 

all  my  magical  transformations  by  the  arms  and  legs  of 
the  aforesaid  genii  conjured  up  to  my  aid  at  eighteen- 
pence  a-day.  There  is  no  one  with  me  but  my  wife, 
to  whom  the  change  of  scene  and  air,  with  the  facility 
of  easy  and  uninterrupted  exercise,  is  of  service. 

DEATH  OF  LADY  SCOTT. 

"  Mbotsford,  May  16,  1826.— She  died  at  nine  in 
the  morning,  after  being  very  ill  for  two  days — easy  at 
last.  I  arrived  here  late  last  night.  Anne  is  worn  out, 
and  has  had  hysterics,  which  returned  on  my  arrival. 
Her  broken  accents  were  like  those  of  a  child — the  lan- 
guage as  well  as  the  tones  broken,  but  in  the  most  gen- 
tle voice  of  submission.  '  Poor  mamma — never  return 
again — gone  for  ever — a  better  place.'  Then,  when 
she  came  to  herself,  she  spoke  with  sense,  freedom,  and 
strength  of  mind,  till  her  weakness  returned.  It  would 
have  been  inexpressibly  moving  to  me  as  a  stranger — 
what  was  it  then  to  the  father  and  the  husband  ?  For 
myself,  I  scarce  know  how  I  feel — sometimes  as  firm 
as  the  Bass  Rock,  sometimes  as  weak  as  the  water  that 
breaks  on  it.  I  am  as  alert  at  thinking  and  deciding  as 
I  ever  was  in  my  life.  Yet,  when  I  contrast  what  this 
place  now  is,  with  what  it  has  been  not  long  since,  I 
think  ray  heart  will  break.  Lonely,  aged,  deprived  of 
my  family — all  but  poor  Anne ;  an  impoverished,  an 
embarrassed  man,  deprived  of  the  sharer  of  my  thoughts 
and  counsels,  who  could  always  talk  down  my  sense  of 
the  calamitous  apprehensions  which  break  the  heart  that 
must  bear  them  alone. — Even  her  foibles  were  of  ser- 


270  SCENES  AT  ABBOTSFORD. 

vice  to  me,  by  giving  me  things  to  think  of  beyond 
my  vt^eary  self-reflections. 

"  I  have  seen  her.  The  figure  I  behekl  is,  and  is 
not,  my  Charlotte — my  thirty  years'  companion.  There 
is  the  same  symmetry  of  form,  though  those  limbs  are 
rigid  which  were  once  so  gracefully  elastic — but  that 
yellow  masque,  with  pinched  features,  which  seems  to 
mock  life  rather  than  emulate  it,  can  it  be  the  face  that 
was  once  so  full  of  lively  expression?  I  will  not  look 
on  it  again.  Anne  thinks  her  little  changed,  because  the 
latest  idea  she  had  formed  of  her  mother  is  as  she  ap- 
peared under  circumstances  of  extreme  pain.  Mine  go 
back  to  a  period  of  comparative  ease.  If  I  write  long 
in  this  way,  I  shall  write  down  my  resolution,  which 
I  should  rather  write  up  if  I  could.  I  wonder  how  I 
shall  do  with  the  large  portion  of  thoughts  which  were 
hers  for  thirty  years.  I  suspect  they  will  be  hers  yet 
for  a  long  time  at  least. 

"May  18. — Another  day,  and  a  bright  one  to  the 
external  world,  again  opens  on  us ;  the  air  soft,  and 
the  flowers  smiling,  and  the  leaves  glittering.  They 
cannot  refresh  her  to  whom  mild  weather  was  a  na- 
tural enjoyment.  Cerements  of  lead  and  of  wood  al- 
ready hold  her;  cold  earth  must  have  her  soon.  But 
it  is  not  my  Charlotte,  it  is  not  the  bride  of  my  youth, 
the  mother  of  my  children,  that  will  be  laid  among  the 
ruins  of  Dryburgh,  which  we  have  so  often  visited  in 
gayety  and  pastime.  No,  no.  She  is  sentient  and  con- 
scious of  my  emotions  somewhere — somehow  ;  where 
we  cannot  tell — how  we  cannot  tell ;  yet  would  I  not 
at  this  moment  renounce  the  mysterious  yet  certain 


SCENES  AT  AUBOTSFORD.  271 

hope  that  I  shall  see  her  in  a  better  world,  for  all  that 
this  world  can  give  me.  The  necessity  of  this  sepa- 
ration, that  necessity  which  rendered  it  even  a  relief, 
that  and  patience  must  be  my  comfort.  I  do  not  expe- 
rience those  paroxysms  of  grief  which  others  do  on 
the  same  occasion.  I  can  exert  myself,  and  speak  even 
cheerfully  with  the  poor  girls.  But  alone,  or  if  any- 
thing touches  me, — the  choking  sensation.  I  have  been 
to  her  I'oom ;  there  was  no  voice  in  it — no  stirring;  the 
pressure  of  the  coffin  was  visible  on  the  bed,  but  it  had 
been  removed  elsewhere  ;  all  was  neat,  as  she  loved  it, 
but  all  was  calm — calm  as  death.  I  remembered  the 
last  sight  of  her :  she  raised  herself  in  bed,  and  tried 
to  turn  her  eyes  after  me,  and  said,  with  a  sort  of  smile, 
'  You  all  have  such  melancholy  faces.'  These  were 
the  last  words  I  ever  heard  her  utter,  and  I  hurried 
away,  for  she  did  not  seem  quite  conscious  of  what  she 
said ;  when  I  returned,  immediately  departing,  she  was 
in  a  deep  sleep.  It  is  deeper  now.  This  was  but  seven 
days  since. 

"They  are  arranging  the  chamber  of  death — that 
which  was  long  the  apartment  of  connubial  happiness, 
and  of  whose  arrangements  (better  than  in  richer  houses) 
she  was  so  proud.  They  are  treading  fast  and  thick. 
For  weeks  you  could  have  heard  a  foot-fall.  Oh,  my 
God! 

'■''May  19.>— Anne,  poor  love, is  ill  with  her  exertions 
and  agitation — cannot  walk — and  is  still  hysterical, 
though  less  so.  We  speak  freely  of  her  whom  we 
liave  lost,  and  mix  her  name  with  our  ordinary  conver- 
sation.    This  is  the  rule  of  nature.     All  primitive  peo- 


272  SCENES  AT  ABBOTSFORD. 

pie  speak  of  their  dead,  and  I  think  virtuously  and  wise- 
ly. The  idea  of  blotting  the  names  of  those  who  are 
gone  out  of  the  language  and  familiar  discourse  of  those 
to  whom  they  were  dearest,  is  one  of  the  rules  of  ultra- 
civilization  which,  in  so  many  instances,  strangle  natu- 
ral feeling  by  way  of  avoiding  a  painful  sensation. 
The  Highlanders  speak  of  their  dead  children  as  freely 
as  of  their  living  members ;  how  poor  Colin  or  Robert 
would  have  acted  in  such  or  such  a  situation.  It  is 
a  generous  and  manly  tone  of  feeling ;  and  so  far  as  it 
may  be  adopted  without  afTectation  or  contradicting  the 
general  habits  of  society,  I  reckon  on  observing  it. 

"  May  2.3. — About  an  hour  before  the  mournful  cere- 
mony of  yesterday,  Walter  arrived,  having  traveled  ex- 
press from  Ireland  on  receiving  the  news.  He  was 
much  aflected,  poor  fellow,  and  no  wonder.  Poor  Char- 
lotte nursed  him,  and  periiaps  for  that  reason  she  was 
over  partial  to  him.  The  whole  scene  floats  as  a  sort 
of  dream  before  me — the  beautiful  day,  the  gray  ruins 
covered  and  hidden  among  clouds  of  foliage  and  flourish, 
where  the  grave,  even  in  the  lap  of  beauty,  lay  lurking, 
and  gaped  for  its  prey.  Then  the  grave  looks,  the 
hasty  important  bustle  of  men  with  spades  and  mattoclcs 
— the  train  of  carriages — the  coffin  containing  the  crea- 
ture that  was  so  long  the  dearest  on  earth  to  me,  and 
whom  I  was  to  consign  to  the  very  spot  which  in 
pleasure-parties  we  so  frequently  visited.  It  seems  still 
as  if  this  could  not  be  really  so.  But  it  is  so — and  duty 
to  God  and  to  my  children  must  teach  me  patience. 
Poor  Anne  has  had  longer  tits  since  our  arrival  from 
Dryburgh    than  before,  but  yesterday  was   the  crisis. 


SCENES  AT  ABBOTSFORD.  273 

She  desired  to  hear  prayers  read  by  Mr.  Ramsay,  who 
performed  the  duty  in  the  most  solemn  manner.  But 
her  strength  couhl  not  carry  it  through.  She  fainted 
before  the  service  was  concluded. 

"  J/ay  24. — Slept  wretchedly,  or  rather  waked  wretch- 
edly all  night,  and  was  very  sick  and  bilious  in  conse- 
quence, and  scarce  able  to  hold  up  my  head  with  pain. 
A  walk,  however,  with  my  sons,  did  me  a  deal  of  good  ; 
indeed,  their  society,  is  the  greatest  support  the  world 
can  afford  me.  Their  ideas  of  everything  are  so  just 
and  honorable,  kind  towards  their  sisters,  and  affection- 
ate to  me,  that  I  must  be  grateful  to  God  for  sparing 
them  to  me,  and  continue  to  battle  with  the  world  for 
their  sakes,  if  not  for  my  own. 

"J/at/  25. —  I  had  sound  sleep  to-night,  and  waked 
with  little  or  nothing  of  the  strange  dreamy  feeling, 
which  had  made  me  for  some  days  feel  like  one  be- 
wildered in  a  country  where  mist  or  snow  has  disguised 
those  features  of  the  landscape  which  are  best  known 
to  him." 


274 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND 
ANECDOTES. 


EDUCATION  OF  THE  HEART.* 

In  llie  course  of  a  walk  in  the  park  at  Edgevvorths- 
tovvn,  1  happened  to  use  some  phrase  which  conveyed 
(though  not  perhaps  meant  to  do  so)  the  impression  that 
I  suspected  Poets  and  Novelists  of  being  a  good  deal 
accustomed  to  look  at  life  and  the  world  only  as  mate- 
rials for  art.  A  soft  and  pensive  shade  came  over  Scott's 
face  as  he  said — "  I  fear  you  have  some  very  young 
ideas  in  your  head: — are  you  not  too  apt  to  measure 
things  by  some  reference  to  literature — to  disbelieve 
that  anybody  can  be  worth  much  care  who  has  no 
knowledge  of  that  sort  of  thing,  or  taste  for  it  ?  God 
help  us  !  what  a  poor  world  this  would  be  if  that  were 
the  true  doctrine  !  I  have  read  books  enough,  and  ob- 
served and  conversed  with  enough  of  eminent  and  splen- 
didly cultivated  minds,  too,  in  my  time  ;  but,  I  assure 
you,  I  have  heard  higher  sentiments  from  the  lips  of 
poor  uneducated  men  and  women,  when  exerting  the 
spirit  of  severe  yet  gentle  heroism  under  difficulties  and 
afflictions,  or  speaking  their  simple  thoughts  as  to  cir- 
cumstances in  the  lot  of  friends  and  neighbors,  than  I 

*  From  the  Life  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  275 

ever  yet  met  with  out  of  the  pages  of  the  Bible.  We 
shall  never  learn  to  feel  and  respect  our  real  calling 
and  destiny,  unless  we  have  taught  ourselves  to  consider 
everything  as  moonshine,  compared  with  the  education 
of  the  heart."  Maria  [Miss  Edgeworth]  did  not  listen 
to  this  without  some  water  in  her  eyes — her  tears  are 
always  ready  when  any  generous  string  is  touched — 
(for,  as  Pope  says,  "  the  finest  minds,  like  the  finest 
metals,  dissolve  the  easiest;" — but  she  brushed  them 
gayly  aside,  and  said,  "  You  see  how  it  is — Dean  Swift 
said  he  had  Avritten  his  books,  in  order  that  people  might 
learn  to  treat  him  like  a  great  lord.  Sir  Walter  writes 
his,  in  order  that  he  may  be  able  to  treat  his  people  as 
a  great  lord  ought  to  do." 

Lest  I  should  forget  to  mention  it,  I  put  down  here 
a  rebuke  which,  later  in  his  life,  Sir  Walter  once  gave 
in  my  hearing  to  his  daughter  Anne.  She  happened  to 
say  of  something,  I  forget  what,  that  she  could  not 
abide  it — it  was  vulgar.  "  My  love,"  said  her  father, 
"  you  speak  like  a  very  young  lady ;  do  you  know, 
after  all,  the  meaning  of  this  word  vulgar  ?  'Tis  only 
common;  nothing  that  is  common,  except  wickedness, 
can  deserve  to  be  spoken  of  in  a  tone  of  contempt;  and 
when  you  have  lived  to  my  years,  you  will  be  disposed 
to  agree  with  me  in  thanking  God  that  nothing  really 
worth  having  or  caring  about  in  this  world  is  uncom- 
monJ'^ 

FEMALE  PURITY. 

All  the  influence  which  women  enjoy  in  society, — 
their  right  to  the  exercise  of  that  maternal  care  which 


276  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

forms  the  first  and  most  indelible  species  of  education; 
the  wholesome  and  mitigating  restraint  which  they  pos- 
sess over  the  passions  of  mankind;  their  power  of  pro- 
tecting us  when  young,  and  cheering  us  when  old, — 
depend  so  entirely  upon  their  personal  purity,  and  the 
charm  which  it  casts  around  them,  that  to  insinuate  a 
doubt  of  its  real  value,  is  wilfully  to  remove  the  broad- 
est corner-stone  on  which  civil  society  rests,  with  all  its 
benefits,  and  with  all  its  comforts. 

AUTUMNAL  SCENERY. 

It  was  now  far  advanced  in  autumn.  The  dew  lay 
thick  on  the  long  grass,  where  it  was  touched  by  the 
sun ;  but  where  the  sward  lay  in  shadow,  it  was  covered 
with  hoar  frost,  and  crisped  under  Jekyl's  foot,  as  he 
returned  through  the  woods  of  St.  Ronan's.  The  leaves 
of  the  ash-trees  detached  themselves  from  the  branches, 
and  without  an  air  of  wind,  fell  spontaneously  on  the 
path.  The  mists  still  lay  lazily  upon  the  heights,  and 
the  huge  old  tower  of  St.  Ronan's  was  entirely  shrouded 
with  vapor,  except  where  a  sunbeam  struggling  with  the 
mist,  penetrated  into  its  Avreath  so  far  as  to  show  a  pro- 
jecting turret  upon  one  of  the  angles  of  the  old  fortress, 
which,  long  a  favorite  haunt  of  the  raven,  was  popularly 
called  the  Corbie's  Tower.  Beneath,  the  scene  was 
open  and  lightsome,  and  the  robin-redbreast  was  chirp- 
ing his  best,  to  atone  for  the  absence  of  all  other  cho- 
risters. The  fine  foliage  of  autumn  was  seen  in  many 
a  glade,  running  up  the  sides  of  each  litde  ravine,  rus- 
set-hued  and  golden-specked,  and  tinged  frequently  with 
the  red  hues  of  the  mountain-ash  ;  while  here  and  there 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  277 

a  huge  old  fir,  the  native  growth  of  the  soil,  flung  his 
broad  shadow  over  the  rest  of  the  trees,  and  seemed  to 
exult  in  the  permanence  of  his  dusky  livery  over  the 
more  show-y,  but  transitory  brilliance  by  which  he  was 
surrounded.  Such  is  the  scene,  which,  so  often  de- 
scribed in  prose  and  in  poetry,  yet  seldom  loses  its 
eflect  upon  the  ear  or  upon  the  eye,  and  through  which 
we  wander  with  a  strain  of  mind  congenial  to  the  de- 
cline of  the  vear. 

SOLEMN    REFLECTION. 

The  dead  and  heavy  closeness  of  the  air,  the  huge 
piles  of  clouds  which  assembled  in  the  western  horizon 
and  glowed  like  a  furnace  under  the  influence  of  the 
settinor  sun — that  awful  stillness  in  which  nature  seems 
to  expect  the  thunder-burst,  as  a  condemned  soldier 
waits  for  the  platoon-fire  which  is  to  stretch  him  on  the 
earth,  all  betokened  a  speedy  storm.  Large  broad  drops 
fell  from  time  to  time,  and  induced  the  gentlemen  to 
assume  the  boat-cloaks;  but  the  rain  again  ceased,  and 
the  oppressive  heat,  so  unusual  in  Scotland  in  the  end 
of  May,  inclined  them  to  throw  them  aside.  "There 
is  something  solemn  in  this  delay  of  the  storm,"  said 
Sir  George ;  "it  seems  as  if  it  suspended  its  peal  till  it 
solemnized  some  important  event  in  the  world  below." 

"  Alas  !"  replied  Butler,  "  what  are  we,  that  the  laws 
of  nature  should  correspond  in  their  march  with  our 
ephemeral  deeds  or  sufferings?  The  clouds  will  burst 
when  surcharged  with  the  electric  fluid,  whether  a  goat 
is  falling  at  that  instant  from  the  clilfs  of  Arran,  or  a 
hero  expiring  on  the  field  of  battle  he  has  won," 


278  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

"The  mind  delights  to  deem  it  otherwise,"  said  Sir 
George  Staunton;  "and  to  dwell  on  the  fate  of 
humanity  as  on  that  which  is  the  prime  central  move- 
ment of  the  mighty  machine.  We  love  not  to  think 
that  we  shall  mix  with  the  ages  that  have  gone  before 
us,  as  these  broad  black  rain-drops  mingle  with  the 
waste  of  waters,  making  a  trifling  and  momentary  eddy, 
and  are  then  lost  forever." 

"  Forever  I — we  are  not — we  cannot  be  lost  forever," 
said  Butler,  looking  upward ;  "  death  is  to  us  change, 
not  consummation  ;  and  the  commencement  of  a  new 
existence,  corresponding  in  character  to  the  deeds  which 
we  have  done  in  the  body." 

FORTITUDE  AND  PERSEVERANCE. 

The  great  art  of  life,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to 
observe,  consists  in  fortitude  and  perseverance.  I  have 
rarely  seen,  that  a  man  who  conscientiously  devoted 
himself  to  the  studies  and  duties  of  any  profession^ 
and  did  not  omit  to  take  fair  and  honorable  opportunities 
of  offering  himself  to  notice  when  such  presented 
themselves,  has  not  at  length  got  forward.  The  mis- 
chance of  those  who  fall  behind,  though  flung  upon 
fortune,  more  frequently  arises  from  want  of  skill  and 
perseverance.  Life,  my  young  friend,  is  like  a  game 
at  cards — our  hands  are  alternately  good  or  bad,  and  tlie 
whole  seems,  at  first  glance,  to  depend  on  mere  chance. 
But  it  is  not  so,  for  in  the  long  run  the  skill  of  the 
player  predominates  over  the  casualties  of  the  game. 
Therefore,  do  not  be  discouraged  with  the  prospect  be- 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  279 

fore  you,  but  ply  your  studies  hard  and  qualify  your- 
self to  receive  fortune  when  she  comes  your  way. 

LONGEVITY. 

The  bowl  that  rolls  easiest  along  the  green  goes  far- 
thest, and  has  the  least  clay  sticking  to  it.  I  have  often 
noticed  that  a  kindly,  placid,  good  humor  is  the  com- 
panion of  longevity,  and,  I  suspect,  frequently  the  lead- 
ing cause  of  it.  Quick,  keen,  sharp  observation,  with 
the  power  of  contrast  and  illustration,  disturbs  this  easy 
current  of  thought.* 

THE   YOUNG   AND   OLD. 

When  old  people  can  be  with  the  young  without 
fatiguing  them  or  themselves,  their  tempers  derive  the 
same  benefits  which  some  fantastic  physicians  of  old 
supposed  accrued  to  their  constitutions  from  the  breath 
of  the  young  and  healthy.  You  have  not — cannot 
again  have  their  gayety  or  pleasure  in  seeing  sights  ;  but 
still  it  reflects  itself  upon  you,  and  you  are  cheered  and 
comforted. 

*  "  Life  ebbs  from  such  old  age,  unmark'd  and  silent, 
As  the  slow  neap-tide  leaves  yon  stranded  galley. — 
Late  he  rock'd  merrily  at  the  least  impulse 
That  wind  or  wave  could  give ;  but  now  her  keel 
Is  settling  on  the  sand,  her  mast  has  ta'en 
An  angle  with  the  sky,  from  which  it  shifts  not. 
Each  wave  receding  shakes  her  less  and  less, 
Till,  bedded  on  the  strand,  she  shall  remain 
Useless  as  motionless. 


280  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 


englishman's    love    OF    GRUMBLING. 

To  a   thorough  indigenous  independent  Briton,  the 
word  "misery"  does  by  no  means  convey  an  idea  of 
extreme  discomfort.     He  feels  the  satisfaction  of  grum- 
blino-  over  his  misfortunes  to  be,  on  many  occasions,  so 
much  greater  than  the  pain  of  enduring  them,  that  he 
will  beg,  borrow,  steal,  or  even  manufacture  calamities, 
sooner  than  sufter  under  any  unusual  scarcity  of  dis- 
content.    He  knows,  indeed,  that  miseries  are  indeed 
necessary  to  his  happiness,   and   though   perhaps   not 
quite  so  pleasant  at  the  moment  as  his  other  indispens- 
able enjoyments,  roast  beef  and  beer,  would,  if  taken 
away,  leave  just  as  great  a  craving  in  his  appetites  as 
would  be  occasioned  by  the  privation  of  these  national 
dainties.     The  Englishman  alone,  we   think,  occupies 
himself  seriously  in  this  manufacture  of  unhappiness  ; 
and  seems  to  possess,  almost  as  exclusively,  the  power 
of  afterwards  laughing  at  his  own  misfortunes  ;   which, 
however,  during  their  immediate  existence,  gave  him  as 
much  torment  as  ever  the  crushing  of  an  earwig,  or 
beating  a  jackass,  inflicted  on  the  sensibility  of  a  lach- 
rymose German.     It  is  the  English  only  who  submit  to 
.  the  same  tyranny,  from  all  the  incidental  annoyances 
and   petty  vexations  of  the  day,  as   from   the   serious 
calamities  of  life.     In  Ben   Jonson's   time,  it  was  an 
unmeaning  humor  "to  be  gentleman-like   and   melan- 
choly."    We  believe  it  is  since  those  days  that  a  cause 
for  that  melancholy  has  been  invented.     It  is  only  by 
the  present  race  that  the  drawing  on  tight  boots,  or  the 
extinguishing  a  candle  under  your  nose,  has  been  found 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  281 

entirely  to  embitter  life.  These  trifling  uneasinesses 
are  now  dwelt  and  commented  upon,  in  conversation, 
as  of  the  highest  importance;  are  considered  an  excuse 
for  spleen  or  ill  nature,  and,  sometimes,  almost  a  reason 
for  doubting  the  beneficence  of  Nature  altogether. 
These  resdess  concomitants  of  life  are  only  valued  and 
cultivated  in  our  gloomy  atmosphere.  The  lively 
Frenchman  either  passes  them  unnoticed,  or,  if  he  does 
perceive  them,  only  moulds  them  into  a  pleasantry  to 
amuse  his  next  companion.  The  haughty  Spaniard 
Avill  not  suffer  his  gravity  and  grandeur  to  be  broken  in 
upon  by  such  paltry  considerations.  The  quiet  Scots- 
man patiently  endures  them  without  knowing  them  to 
be.  evils;  or  if  he  by  chance  receives  annoyance,  here- 
after goes  round  about  to  avoid  them.  The  violent 
Irishman  either  passionately  throws  them  off  in  an  in- 
stant, or  persuades  himself  it  is  comfort  and  amusement 
to  him  to  let  them  continue.  The  phlegmatic  Dutchman 
hides  them  from  his  view  by  the  smoke  of  his  pipe ; 
•while  the  philosophizing  German,  who  only  feels  for 
all  mankind,  thinks  everything  a  trifle  that  affects  him- 
self. The  sombre  Englishman  alone  contents  himself 
with  grumbling  at  the  evils,  which  he  takes  no  steps  to 
avoid;  and  perhaps  the  proneness  to  suicide,  that  is 
objected  to  John  Bull  by  foreigners,  might  more  reason- 
ably be  attributed  to  this  indulgence  in  unhappiness, 
and  domestication  of  misery,  than  to  the  influence  of 
fogs,  or  the  physical  effects  of  sea-coal  fires. 

VOL.  II. — 19 


282  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONg,  AND  ANECDOTES. 


IRISH    WIT,  GOOD    HUMOR,   AND    ABSURDITY. 

"  Once  more  of  Ireland.  I  said  their  poverty  was 
not  exaggerated — neither  is  their  wit — nor  their  good- 
humor —  nor  their  whimsical  absurdity  —  nor  their 
courage. 

"  Wit. — I  gave  a  fellow  a  shilling  on  §ome  occasion 
when  sixpence  was  the  fee.  '  Remember  you  owe  me 
sixpence,  Pat.'  'May  your  honor  live  till  I  pay  you.' 
There  v/as  courtesy  as  well  as  art  in  this,  and  all  the 
clothes  on  Pat's  back  would  have  been  dearly  bought 
by  the  sum  in  question. 

"  Good'htimor. — There  is  perpetual  kindness  in  the 
Irish  cabin — butter-milk,  potatoes — a  stool  is  offered, 
or  a  stone  is  rolled  that  your  honor  may  sit  down  and 
be  out  of  the  smoke,  and  those  who  beg  everywhere 
else  seem  desirous  to  exercise  free  hospitality  in  their 
own  houses.  Their  natural  disposition  is  turned  to 
gayety  and  happiness  :  while  a  Scotsman  is  thinking 
about  the  term-day — while  an  Englishman  is  making  a 
noise  because  his  muffin  is  not  well  roasted — Pat's  mind 
is  always  turned  to  fun  and  ridicule.  They  are  terri- 
bly excitable,  to  be  sure,  and  will  murder  you  on  slight 
suspicion,  and  find  out  next  day  that  it  was  all  a  mis- 
take, and  that  it  was  not  yourself  they  meant  to  kill,  at 
all  at  all. 

^^  Msiirdily. — They  were  widening  the  road  near 
Lord  Claremonl's  seat  as  we  passed.  A  number  of 
cars  were  drawn  up  together  at  a  particular  point, 
where  we  also  halted,  as  we  understood  they  were 
blowing  a  rock,  and  the  shot  was  expected  presently 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  283 

to  go  off.  After  waiting  two  minutes  or  so,  a  fellow 
called  out  something,  and  our  carriage  as  a  planet,  and 
the  cars  for  satellites,  started  all  forward  at  once,  the 
Irishmen  whooping,  and  the  horses  galloping.  Unable 
to  learn  the  meaning  of  this,  I  was  only  left  to  suppose 
that  they  had  delayed  firing  the  intended  shot  till  we 
should  pass,  and  that  we  were  passing  quickly  to  make 
the  delay  as  short  as  possible.  No  such  thing.  By  dint 
of  making  great  haste,  we  got  within  ten  yards  of  the 
rock  just  when  the  blast  took  place,  throwing  dust  and 
gravel  on  our  carriage ;  and  had  our  postilion  brought 
us  a  little  nearer  (it  was  not  for  want  of  hallooinir  and 
flogging  that  he  did  not),  we  should  have  had  a  still 
more  serious  share  of  the  explosion.  The  explanation 
1  received  from  the  drivers  M^as,  that  they  had  been  told 
by  the  overseer  that  as  the  mine  had  been  so  long  in 
going  off,  he  dared  say  we  would  have  time  to  pass  it — 
so  we  just  waited  long  enough  to  make  the  danger  im- 
minent. I  have  only  to  add,  that  two  or  three  people 
got  behind  the  carriage,  just  for  nothing  but  to  see  how 
our  honors  got  past. 

RETIRED  SOLDIERS. 

A  retired  old  soldier  is  always  a  graceful  and  respect- 
ed character.  He  grumbles  a  little  now  and  then,  but 
then  his  is  licensed  murmuring — were  a  lawyer,  or  a 
physician,  or  a  clergyman,  to  breathe  a  complaint  of 
hard  luck  or  want  of  preferment,  a  hundred  tongues 
would  blame  his  own  incapacity  as  the  cause.  But  the 
most  stupid  veteran  that  ever  faltered  out  the  thrice-told 
tale  of  a  siege  and  a  battle,  and  a  cock  and  a  bottle,  is 


284  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

listened  to  with  sympathy  and  reverence,  when  he 
shakes  his  thin  locks,  and  talks  with  indignation  of  the 
boys  that  are  put  over  his  head. 

REMARKABLE  INSTANCE  OF  COURAGE. 

I  like  Bolton,  [Mr.  Bolton,  engineer,  Birmingham,] 
he  is  a  brave  man,  and  who  can  dislike  the  brave? — 
He  showed  this  on  a  remarkable  occasion.  He  had 
engaged  to  coin  for  some  foreign  prince  a  large  quantity 
of  gold.  This  was  found  out  by  some  desperadoes, 
who  resolved  to  rob  the  premises,  and  as  a  preliminary 
step  tried  to  bribe  the  porter.  The  porter  was  an  ho- 
nest fellow — he  told  Bolton  that  he  was  offered  a  hun- 
dred pounds  to  be  blind  and  deaf  next  night.  Take  the 
money,  was  the  answer,  and  I  shall  protect  the  place. 
Midnight  came — tlie  gates  opened  as  if  by  magic — the 
interior  doors,  secured  with  patent  locks,  opened  as  of 
their  own  accord — and  three  men  with  dark  lanterns 
entered  and  went  straight  to  the  gold.  Bolton  had  pre- 
pared some  flax  steeped  in  turpentine — he  dropt  fire 
upon  it,  a  sudden  light  filled  all  the  place,  and  with  his 
assistants  he  rushed  forward  on  the  robbers, — the  leader 
saw  in  a  jnoment  he  was  betrayed,  turned  on  the  porter, 
and  shooting  him  dead,  burst  through  all  obstruction, 
and  with  an  ingot  of  gold  in  his  hand,  scaled  the  wall 
and  escaped. 

GREEN-BREEKS ANECDOTE    OF    SCHOOL    DAYS. 

It  is  well  known  in  the  South  that  there  is  little  or 
no  boxing  at  the  Scottish  schools.     About  forty  or  fifty 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  285 

years  ago,  however,  a  far  more  dangerous  mode  of 
fighting,  in  parties  or  factions,  was  permitted  in  the 
streets  of  Edinburgh,  to  the  great  disgrace  of  the  police, 
and  danger  of  the  parties  concerned.  These  parties 
were  generally  formed  from  the  quarters  of  the  town  iu 
which  the  combatants  resided,  those  of  a  particular  square 
or  district  fighting  against  those  of  an  adjoining  one. 
Hence  it  happened  that  the  children  of  the  higher  classes 
were  often  pitted  against  those  of  the  lower,  each  taking 
their  side  according  to  the  residence  of  their  friends.  So 
far  as  I  recollect,  however,  it  was  unmingled  either  with 
feelings  of  democracy,  or  aristocracy,  or  indeed  with 
malice  or  ill-will  of  any  kind  towards  the  opposite  party. 
In  fact,  it  was  only  a  rough  mode  of  play.  Such  contests 
were,  however,  maintained  with  great  vigor  with  stones, 
and  sticks,  and  fisticufi^s,  when  one  party  dared  to  charge, 
and  the  other  stood  their  ground.  Of  course  mischief 
sometimes  happened;  boys  are  said  to  have  been  killed 
at  these  bickers,  as  they  were  called,  and  serious  acci- 
dents certainly  took  place,  as  many  cotemporaries  can 
bear  witness. 

The  author's  father  residing  in  George's  Square,  in 
the  southern  side  of  Edinburgh,  the  boys  belonging  to 
that  family,  with  others  in  the  square,  were  arranged 
into  a  sort  of  company,  to  which  a  lady  of  distinction 
presented  a  handsome  set  of  colors.  Now  this  com- 
pany or  regiment,  as  a  matter  of  course,  was  engaged  in 
weekly  warfare  with  the  boys  inhabiting  the  Cross- 
causeway,  Bristo-street,  the  Potter-row, — in  short,  the 
neighboring  suburbs.  These  last  were  chiefly  of  the 
lower  rank,  but  hardy  loons,  who  threw  stones  to  a 
hair's-breadth,  and  were  very  rugged  antagonists  at  close 


28G  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

quarters.  The  skirmish  sometimes  lasted  for  a  whole 
evening,  until  one  party  or  the  other  was  victorious, 
when,  if  ours  were  successful,  we  drove  the  enemy  to 
their  quarters,  and  were  usually  chased  back  by  the 
reinforcement  of  bigger  lads  who  came  to  their  assist- 
ance. If,  on  the  contrary,  we  were  pursued,  as  was 
often  the  case,  into  the  precincts  of  our  square,  we 
were  in  our  turn  supported  by  our  elder  brothers,  do- 
mestic servants,  and  similar  auxiliaries. 

It  followed,  from  our  frequent  opposition  to  each 
other,  that  though  not  knowing  the  names  of  our  enemies, 
we  were  yet  well  acquainted  with  their  appearance, 
and  had  nicknames  for  the  most  remarkable  of  them. 
One  very  active  and  spirited  boy  might  be  considered 
as  the  principal  leader  in  the  cohort  of  the  suburbs. 
He  was,  I  suppose,  thirteen  or  fourteen  years  old,  finely 
made,  tall,  blue-eyed,  with  long  fair  hair,  the  very  pic- 
ture of  a  youthful  Goth.  This  lad  was  always  first  in 
the  charge,  and  last  in  the  retreat — the  Achilles,  at  once, 
and  Ajax,  of  the  Cross-causeway.  He  was  too  formi- 
dable to  us  not  to  have  a  cognomen,  and,  like  that  of 
a  knight  of  old,  it  was  taken  from  the  most  remarkable 
part  of  his  dress,  being  a  pair  of  old  green  livery 
breeches,  which  was  the  principal  part  of  his  clothing; 
for,  like  Pentapolin,  according  to  Don  Quixote's  account, 
Green-Breeks,  as  we  called  him,  always  entered  the 
batde  with  bare  arms,  legs,  and  feet. 

It  fell,  that  once  upon  a  time,  when  the  combat  was 
at  the  thickest,  this  plebeian  champion  headed  a  sudden 
charge,  so  rapid  and  furious,  that  all  fled  before  him. 
He  Avas  several  paces  before  his  comrades,  and  had 
actually  laid  his  hands  on  the  patrician  standard,  when 


MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES.  287 

one  of  our  party,  wliom  some  misjudging  friend  had  in- 
trusted with  a  couteau  de  chasse,  or  hanger,  inspired 
with  a  zeal  for  the  honor  of  the  corps  worthy  of  Major 
Sturgeon  himself,  struck  poor  Green-Breeks  over  the 
head,  with  strength  sufficient  to  cut  him  down.  "When 
this  was  seen,  the  casualty  was  so  far  beyond  what  had 
ever  taken  place  before,  that  both  parlies  fled  different 
ways,  leaving  poor  Green-Breeks  with  his  bright  hair 
plentifully  dabbled  in  blood,  to  tlie  care  of  the  watch- 
man, who  (honest  man)  took  care  not  to  know  who  had 
done  the  mischief.  The  bloody  hanger  was  flung  into 
one  of  the  Meadow  ditches,  and  solemn  secrecy  was 
sworn  on  ail  hands  ;  but  the  remorse  and  terror  of  the 
actor  were  beyond  all  bounds,  and  his  apprehensions 
of  the  most  dreadful  character.  The  wounded  hero 
was  for  a  few  days  in  the  Infirmary,  the  case  being 
only  a  trifling  one.  But  though  inquiry  was  strongly 
pressed  on  him,  no  argument  could  make  him  indicate 
the  person  from  whom  he  had  received  the  wound, 
though  he  must  have  been  perfectly  well  known  to  him. 
When  he  recovered,  and  was  dismissed,  the  author  and 
his  brothers  opened  a  communication  with  him,  through 
the  medium  of  a  popular  gingerbread  baker,  of  whom 
both  parties  were  customers,  in  order  to  tender  a  sub- 
sidy in  name  of  smart-money.  The  sum  would  excite 
ridicule  were  I  to  name  it:  but  sure  I  am,  that  the 
pockets  of  the  noted  Green-breeks  never  held  as  much 
money  of  his  own.  He  declined  the  remittance,  say- 
ing that  he  would  not  sell  his  blood;  but  at  the  same 
time,  reprobated  the  idea  of  being  an  informer,  which 
he  said  was  clam,  i.  e.  base  or  mean.  With  much  ur- 
gency he  accepted  a  pound  of  snuff  for  the  use  of  some 


288  MAXIMS,  OBSERVATIONS,  AND  ANECDOTES. 

old  woman — aunt,  grandmother,  or  the  like — with 
whom  he  lived.  We  did  not  become  friends,  for  the 
bickers  were  more  agreeable  to  both  parties  than  any 
more  pacific  amusement;  but  we  conducted  them  ever 
after  under  mutual  assurances  of  the  highest  conside- 
ration for  each  other. 


289 


POETRY 


ST.  Mary's  lake. 


When,  musing  on  companions  gone. 
We  doubly  feel  ourselves  alone, 
Something,  my  friend,  we  yet  may  gain ; 
There  is  a  pleasure  in  this  pain: 
It  soothes  the  love  of  lonely  rest. 
Deep  in  each  gentler  heart  impress'd. 
'Tis  silent  amid  worldly  toils, 
And  stifled  soon  by  mental  broils; 
But,  in  a  bosom  thus  prepared. 
Its  still  small  voice  is  often  heard. 
Whispering  a  mingled  sentiment, 
'Twixt  resignation  and  content. 
Oft  in  my  mind  such  thoughts  awake. 
By  lone  Saint  Mary's  silent  lake  ; 
Thou  know'st  it  well — nor  fen,  nor  sedge, 
Pollute  the  pure  lake's  crystal  edge  ; 
Abrupt  and  sheer,  the  mountains  sink 
At  once  upon  the  level  brink  ; 
And  just  a  trace  of  silver  sand 
Marks  where  the  water  meets  the  land. 
Far  in  the  mirror,  bright  and  blue, 
Each  hill's  huge  outline  you  may  view ; 


290  POETRY. 

Shaggy  with  Keath,  but  lonely,  bare, 

Nor  tree,  nor  bush,  nor  brake,  is  there, 

Save  where,  of  land,  yon  slender  line 

Bears  thwart  the  lake  the  scatter'd  pine. 

Yet  even  this  nakedness  has  power, 

And  aids  tlie  feeling  of  the  hour : 

Nor  thicket,  dell,  nor  copse  you  spy. 

Where  living  thing  conceal'd  might  lie  ; 

Nor  point,  retiring,  hides  a  dell. 

Where  swain,  or  woodman  lone,  might  dwell; 

There's  nothing  left  to  fancy's  guess, 

You  see  that  all  is  loneliness  : 

And  silence  aids — though  tlie  steep  hills 

Send  to  the  lake  a  thousand  rills; 

In  summer  tide,  so  soft  they  weep. 

The  sound  but  lulls  the  ear  asleep ; 

Your  horse's  hoof-tread  sounds  too  rude, 

So  stilly  is  the  solitude.* 

*  This  beautiful  sheet  of  water  forms  the  reservoir  from  which 
the  Yarrow  takes  its  source.  It  is  connected  with  a  smaller  lake 
called  the  Loch  of  the  Lowes,  and  surrounded  by  mountains.  In 
the  winter,  it  is  still  frequented  by  flights  of  wild  swans;  hence 
my  friend  Mr.  Wordsworth's  lines — 

"The  swan  on  sweet  St.  Mary's  lake 
Floats  double,  swan  and  shadow." 

Near  the  lower  extremity  of  the  lake,  are  the  ruins  of  Dryhope 
Tower,  the  birth-place  of  Mary  Scott,  daughter  of  Philip  Scott  of 
Dryhope,  and  famous  by  the  traditional  name  of  the  Flower  of 
Yarrow.  She  was  married  to  Walter  Scott  of  Harden,  no  less  re- 
nowned for  his  depredations,  than  his  bride  for  her  beauty.  Her 
romantic  appellation  was,  in  latter  days,  with  equal  justice,  con- 


POETRY.  291 


EARLY  FEELINGS SMAILIIOLM  TOWER. 

Thus  while  I  ape  the  measure  wild 
Of  tales  that  charm'd  me  yet  a  child, 
Rude  though  they  be,  still  with  the  chime 
Return  the  thoughts  of  early  time; 
And  feelings,  roused  in  life's  first  day, 
Glow  in  the  line,  and  prompt  the  lay. 
Then  rise  those  crags,  that  mountain  tower. 
Which  charm'd  my  fancy's  wakening  hour. 
Though  no  broad  river  swept  along. 
To  claim,  perchance,  heroic  song  ; 
Though  sigh'd  no  groves  in  summer  gale, 
To  prompt  of  love  a  softer  tale  ; 
Though  scarce  a  puny  streamlet's  speed 
Claim'd  homage  from  a  shepherd's  reed ; 
Yet  was  poetic  impulse  given, 
By  the  green  hill  and  clear  blue  heaven. 
It  was  a  barren  scene,  and  wild. 
Where  naked  clifTs  were  rudely  piled  ; 
But  ever  and  anon  between 
Lay  velvet  tufts  of  loveliest  green; 
And  well  the  lonely  infant  knew 
Recesses  where  the  wall-flower  grew, 

ferred  on  Miss  Mary  Lilias  Scott,  the  last  of  the  elder  branch  of 
the  Harden  family.  The  author  well  remembers  the  talent  and 
spirit  of  the  latter  Flower  of  Yarrow,  though  age  liad  then  injured 
the  charms  which  procured  her  the  name.  The  words  usually 
sung  to  the  air  of  "Tweedside,"'  beginning,  "What  beauties  does 
Flora  disclose,"  were  composed  in  her  honor. 


293  POETRY. 

And  honeysuckle  loved  to  crawl 

Up  the  low  crag  and  ruin'd  wall. 

I  deern'd  such  nooks  the  sweetest  shade 

The  sun  in  all  its  round  survey'd ; 

And  still  I  thought  that  shatter'd  tower 

The  mightiest  work  of  human  power; 

And  marvel'd  as  the  aged  hind 

With  some  strange  tale  bewitch'd  my  mind 

Of  forayers,  who,  with  headlong  force, 

Down  from  that  strength  had  spurr'd  their  horse, 

Their  southern  rapine  to  renew. 

Far  in  the  distant  Cheviots  blue. 

And,  home  returning,  fill'd  the  hall 

With  revel,  wassel-rout,  and  brawl. 

Metliought  that  still,  with  trump  and  clang, 

The  gateway's  broken  arches  rang ; 

Methought  grim  features,  seam'd  with  scars. 

Glared  through  the  window's  rusty  bars. 

And  ever,  by  the  winter  hearth. 

Old  tales  I  heard  of  woe  or  mirth, 

Of  lovers'  sliglits,  of  ladies'  charms, 

Of  witches'  spells,  of  warriors'  arms ; 

Of  patriot  battles  won  of  old 

By  Wallace  wight  and  Bruce  the  bold ; 

Of  later  fields  of  feud  and  fight. 

When,  pouring  from  their  Highland  height, 

The  Scottish  clans,  in  headlong  sway. 

Had  swept  the  scarlet  ranks  away. 

While  stretch'd  at  length  upon  the  floor, 

Again  I  fought  each  combat  o'er, 

Pebbles  and  shells,  in  order  laid, 

The  mimic  ranks  of  war  displayed  ; 


POETRY.  293 

And  onward  still  the  Scottish  Lion  bore, 
And  still  the  scatter'd  Southron  fled  before.* 


THE    TROSACHS    AND    LOCH    KATRINE. 

The  western  waves  of  ebbing  day 

RoU'd  o'er  the  glen  their  level  way  ; 

Each  purple  peak,  each  flinty  spire. 

Was  bathed  in  floods  of  living  fire. 

But  not  a  setting  beam  could  glow 

Within  the  dark  ravines  below. 

Where  twined  the  path  in  shadow  hid, 

Round  many  a  rocky  pyramid, 

Shooting  abruptly  from  the  dell 

Its  thunder-splinter'd  pinnacle  ;  * 

Round  many  an  insulated  mass. 

The  native  bulwarks  of  the  pass, 

lluse  as  the  tower,  which  builders  vain 

Presumptuous  piled  on  Shinar's  plain. 

The  rocky  summit  split  and  rent, 

Form'd  turret,  dome,  or  battlement, 

Or  seem'd  fantastically  set 

With  cupola  or  minaret. 

Wild  crests  as  pagod  ever  deck'd, 

Or  mosque  of  Eastern  architect. 

Nor  were  these  earth-born  castles  bare. 

Nor  lack'd  they  many  a  banner  fair; 

For,  from  their  shiver'd  brows  display'd 


* 


Smailholin  Tower,  in  Berwickshire,  the  scene  of  the  Author's 
infancy,  is  situated  about  two  miles  from  Dryburgh  Abbey. 


294  POETRY. 

Far  o'er  the  unfathomable  glade, 
All  twinkling  with  the  dewdrops  sheen, 
The  brier-rose  fell  in  streamers  green, 
And  creeping  shrubs,  of  thousand  dyes. 
Waved  in  the  west  wind's  summer  sighs. 
Boon  nature  scatter'd,  free  and  wild, 
Each  plant  or  flower,  the  mountain's  child. 
Here  eglantine  embalm'd  the  air, 
Hawthorn  and  hazel  mingled  there; 
The  primrose  pale,  and  violet  flower, 
Found  in  each  clifl'  a  narrow  bower ; 
Fox-glove  and  night-shade,  side  by  side. 
Emblems  of  punishment  and  pride, 
CJroup'd  their  dark  hues  with  every  stain 
The  weather-beaten  crags  retain. 
With  boughs  that  quaked  at  every  breath, 
Gray  birch  and  aspen  wept  beneath  ; 
Aloft,  the  ash  and  warrior  oak 
Cast  anchor  in  the  rifted  rock  ; 
And,  higher  yet,  the  pine-tree  hung 
His  shatter'd  trunk,  and  frequent  flung. 
Where  seem'd  the  clifls  to  meet  on  hiah. 
His  boughs  athwart  the  narrow'd  sky. 
Highest  of  all,  where  white-peaks  glanced. 
Where  glist'ning  streamers  waved  and  danced. 
The  wanderer's  eye  could  barely  view 
The  summer  heaven's  delicious  blue; 
So  wondrous  wild,  the  whole  might  seem 
The  scenery  of  a  fairy  dream. 

And  now,  to  issue  from  the  glen, 

No  pathway  meets  the  wanderer's  ken 


rOETRV. 


295 


Unless  he  climb,  with  footing  nice, 

A  far  projecting  precipice. 

The  broom's  tough  roots  liis  ladder  made. 

The  hazel  saplings  lent  their  aid; 

And  thus  an  airy  point  be  won, 

Where,  gleaming  with  the  setting  sun. 

One  burnish'd  sheet  of  living  gold. 

Loch  Katrine  lay  beneath  him  roU'd, 

In  all  her  length  far  winding  lay, 

With  promontory,  creek,  and  bay. 

And  islands  that,  empurpled  bright. 

Floated  amid  the  livelier  light. 

And  mountains,  that  like  giants  stand. 

To  sentinel  enchanted  land. 

High  on  the  south,  huge  Benvenue 

Down  on  the  lake  in  masses  threw 

Crags,  knolls,  and  mounds,  confusedly  hurfd. 

The  fragments  of  an  earlier  world ; 

A  wildering  forest  feather'd  o'er 

His  ruin'd  sides  and  summit  hoar, 

While  on  the  norlli,  through  middle  air, 

Ijen-an  heaved  high  his  forehead  bare. 

From  the  steep  promontory  gazed 

The  stranger,  raptured  and  amazed. 

And,  "  What  a  scene  were  here,"  he  cried, 

"  For  princely  pomp,  or  churchman's  pride! 

On  this  bold  brow,  a  lordly  tower  ; 

In  that  soft  vale,  a  lady's  bower; 

On  yonder  meadow,  far  away. 

The  turrets  of  a  cloister  gray  ; 


296  POETRY. 

How  blithely  might  the  bugle  horn 

Chide,  on  the  lake,  the  lingering  morn ! 

How  sweet,  at  eve,  the  lover's  lute 

Chime,  when  the  groves  were  still  and  mute ! 

And,  when  the  midnight  noon  shall  lave 

Her  forehead  in  the  silver  wave, 

How  solemn  on  the  ear  would  come 

The  holy  matin's  distant  hum. 

While  the  deep  peal's  commanding  tone 

Should  wake,  in  yonder  islet  lone, 

A  sainted  hermit  from  his  cell, 

To  drop  a  bead  with  every  knell — 

And  bugle,  lute,  and  bell,  and  all. 

Should  each  bewilder'd  stranger  call 

To  friendly  feast,  and  lighted  hall." 


297 


LYRICAL    PIECES. 


LOCHINVAR. 

O  YOUNG  Lochinvar  is  come  out  of  the  west, 
Through  all  the  wide  Border  his  steed  was  the  best, 
And  save  his  good  broadsword,  he  weapons  had  none, 
He  rode  all  unarm'd,  and  he  rode  all  alone. 
So  faithful  in  love,  and  so  dauntless  in  war, 
There  never  was  knight  like  the  young  Lochinvar. 

He  staid  not  for  brake,  and  he  stopp'd  not  for  stone. 
He  swam  the  Eske  river  where  ford  there  was  none; 
But  ere  he  alighted  at  Netherby  gate, 
The  bride  had  consented,  the  gallant  came  late : 
For  a  laggard  in  love,  and  a  dastard  in  war, 
Was  to  wed  the  fair  Ellen  of  brave  Lochinvar. 

So  boldly  he  entered  the  Netherby  Hall, 

Among  bride's-men,  and  kinsmen,  and  brothers,  and 

all: 
Then  spoke  the  bride's  father,  his  hand  on  his  sword 
(For  the  poor  craven  bridegroom  said  never  a  word), 
"  O  come  ye  in  peace  here,  or  come  ye  in  war, 
Or  to  dance  at  our  bridal,  young  Lord  Lochinvar  ?" — • 

VOL.  II. — 20 


298  LYRTCAL  PIECES. 

"I  long  woo'd  your  daughter;  my  suit  you  denied; — 
Love  swells  like  the  Solway,  but  ebbs  like  its  tide — 
And  now  am  I  come  with  this  lost  love  of  mine, 
To  lead  but  one  measure,  drink  one  cup  of  wine. 
There  are  maidens  in  Scotland  more  lovely  by  far. 
That  would  gladly  be  bride  to  the  young  Lochinvar." 

The  bride  kiss'd  the  goblet;  the  knight  took  it  up. 
He  quaff'd  off  the  wine,  and  he  threw  down  the  cup. 
She  look'd  down  to  blush,  and  she  look'd  up  to  sigh, 
With  a  smile  on  her  lips,  and  a  tear  in  her  eye. 
He  took  her  soft  hand,  ere  her  mother  could  bar, — 
"  Now  tread  we  a  measure!"  said  young  Lochinvar. 

So  stately  his  form,  and  so  lovely  her.  face, 

That  never  a  hall  such  a  galliard  did  grace; 

While  her  mother  did  fret,  and  her  father  did  fume, 

And   the  bridegroom   stood    dangling  his  bonnet  and 

plume ; 
And   the  bride-maidens  whisper'd,  "  'Twere  better  by 

far, 
To  have  matched  our  fair  cousin  with  young  Lochin- 
var." 

One  touch  to  her  hand,  and  one  word  in  her  ear, 
When  they  reach'd  the  hall-door,  and  the  charger  stood 

near ; 
So  light  to  the  croupe  the  fair  lady  he  swung, 
So  light  to  the  saddle  before  her  he  sprung ! 
"  She  is  won  !  we  are  gone,  over  bank,  bush,  and  scaur  ; 
They'll  have  fleet  steeds   that  follow,"   quoth  young 

Lochinvar. 


LYRICAL  PIECES.  299 

There  was  mounting  'mong  Graemes  of  the  Netherby 

clan  ; 
Forsters,  Fenwicks,  and  Musgraves,  they  rode  and  they 

ran. 
There  was  racing  and  chasing,  on  Cannobie  Lee, 
But  the  lost  bride  of  Netherby  ne'er  did  they  see. 
So  daring  in  love,  and  so  dauntless  in  Avar, 
Have  ye  e'er  heard  of  gallant  like  young  Lochinvar  2 


mackrimmon's  lament. 


Mackhimmon,  hereditary  piper  to  the  Laird  of  Macleod,  is 
said  to  have  composed  this  lament  when  the  Clan  was  about  to 
depart  upon  a  distant  and  dangerous  expedition.  The  Minstrel 
was  impressed  with  a  belief^  wliicli  the  event  verified,  that  he 
■was  to  be  slain  in  the  approaching  feud ;  and  hence  the  Gaelic 
words — "  CAa  till  mi  tuille ;  ged  thillis  Macleod,  cha  till  Mackrim- 
mon," — "I  shall  never  return;  although  Macleod  returns,  yet 
Mackrimmon  shall  never  return!"'  The  piece  is  but  too  well 
known,  from  its  being  the  strain  with  which  the  emigrants  from 
the  West  Highlands  and  Isles  usually  take  leave  of  their  native 
shore. 

MacLeod's  wizard  flag  from  the  gray  castle  sallies, 

The  rowers  are  seated,  unmoor'd  are  the  galleys ; 

Gleam  war-axe  and  broadsword,  clang  target  and 
quiver, 

As  Mackrimmon  sings,  "  Farewell  to  Dunvegan  for 
ever ! 

Farewell  to  each  cliff",  on  which  breakers  are  foaming ; 

Farewell,  each  dark  glen,  in  which  red-deer  are  roam- 
ing ! 

Farewell,  lonely  Skye,  to  lake,  mountain,  and  river ; 

Macleod  may  return,  but  Mackrimmon  shall  never! 


300  LYRICAL  PIECES. 

"Farewell  the  bright  clouds  that  on  Quillan  are  sleep- 
ing; 

Farewell  the  bright  eyes  in  the  Dun  that  are  weeping; 

To  each  minstrel  delusion,  farewell ! — and  for  ever — 

Mackrimmon  departs,  to  return  to  you  never  ! 

The  Banshee's  wild  voice  sings  the  death-dirge  before 
me, 

TMie  pall  of  the  dead  for  a  mantle  hangs  o'er  me ; 

But  my  heart  shall  not  flag,  and  my  nerves  shall  not 
shiver, 

Though  devoted  I  go — to  return  again  never ! 

"  Too  oft  shall  the  notes  of  Mackrimraon's  bewailing 
Be  heard  when  the  Gael  on  their  exile  are  sailing ; 
Dear  land  !  to  the  shores,  whence  unwilling  we  sever, 
Return — return — return  shall  we  never  ! 

Cha  till,  cha  till,  cha  till,  sin  tullie ! 

Cha  till,  cha  till,  cha  till,  sin  tullie, 

Cha  till,  cha  till,  cha  till,  sin  tullie, 

Gea  thillis  Macleod,  cha  till  Mackrimmon  !" 


THE  HEATH  THIS  NIGHT  MUST  BE  MY  BED. 

The  heath  this  night  must  be  my  bed, 
The  bracken  curtain  for  my  head, 
My  lullaby  the  warder's  tread, 

Far,  far  from  love  and  thee,  Mary ; 
To-morrow  eve,  more  stilly  laid, 
My  vesper  song  thy  wail,  sweet  maid  ! 

It  will  not  waken  me,  Mary  ! 


LYRICAL  PIECES.  301 

I  may  not,  dare  not,  fancy  now 

The  grief  that  clouds  thy  lovely  brow  ; 

I  dare  not  think  upon  thy  vow, 

And  all  it  promised  me,  Mary  ! 
No  fond  regret  must  Norman  know  ; 
When  bursts  Clan- Alpine  on  the  foe, 
His  heart  must  be  like  bended  bow. 

His  foot  like  arrow  free,  Mary. 

A  time  will  come  with  feeling  fraught, 
For,  if  I  fall  in  battle  fought. 
Thy  hapless  lover's  dying  thought 

Shall  be  a  thought  on  thee,  Mary. 
And  if  return'd  from  conquer'd  foes, 
How  blithely  will  the  evening  close. 
How  sweet  the  linnet  sing  repose, 

To  my  young  bride  and  me,  Mary  ! 

LULLABY  OF    AN  INFANT    CHIEF. 

0,  hush  thee,  my  babie  ! — thy  sire  was  a  knight. 

Thy  mother  a  lady,  both  lovely  and  bright ; 

The  woods  and  the  glens,  from  the  towers  which  we 

see. 
They  all  are  belonging,  dear  babie,  to  thee. 

O,  fear  not  the  bugle,  though  loudly  it  blows, 

It  calls  but  the  warders  that  guard  thy  repose; 

Their  bows  would  be  bended,  their  blades  would  be 

red. 
Ere  the  step  of  a  foeman  draws  near  to  thy  bed. 


302  LYRICAL  PIECES. 

O,  hush  thee,  my  babie  ! — the  time  soon  will  come, 
When  thy  sleep  shall  be  broken  by  trumpet  and  drum  ; 
Then  hush  thee,  my  darling,  take  rest  while  you  may, 
For  strife  comes  with  manhood,  and  waking  with  day. 

JOCK    OF    IIAZELDEAN. 

"  Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide,  ladie  ? 

Why  weep  ye  by  the  tide  ? 
I'll  wed  ye  to  my  youngest  son, 

And  ye  sail  be  his  bride  : 
And  ye  sail  be  his  bride,  ladie, 

Sae  comely  to  be  seen" — 
But  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa' 

For  Jock  of  Hazeldean. 

"  Now  let  this  wilfu'  grief  be  done, 

And  dry  that  cheek  so  pale ; 
Young  Frank  is  chief  of  Errington, 

And  lord  of  Langley-dale ; 
His  step  is  first  in  peaceful  ha', 

His  sword  in  battle  keen" — 
But  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa' 

For  Jock  of  Hazeldean. 

"  A  chain  of  gold  ye  sail  not  lack. 

Nor  braid  to  bind  your  hair ; 
Nor  mettled  hound,  nor  managed  hawk. 

Nor  palfrey  fresh  and  fair ; 
And  you,  the  foremost  o'  them  a' 

Shall  ride  our  forest  queen"— 


LYRICAL  PIECES.  303 

But  aye  she  loot  the  tears  down  fa' 
For  Jock  of  Hazeldean. 

The  kirk  was  deck'd  at  morning-tide. 

The  tapers  glimmer'd  fair ; 
The  priest  and  bridegroom  wait  the  bride, 

And  dame  and  knight  are  there. 
They  sought  her  baith  by  bower  and  ha' ; 

The  ladie  was  not  seen  ! 
She's  o'er  the  border,  and  awa' 

Wi'  Jock  of  Hazeldean. 

THE    SUN    UPON    THE    WEIRDLAW    HILL. 

The  sun  upon  the  Weirdlaw  Hill, 

In  Ettrick's  vale,  is  sinking  sweet; 
The  westland  wind  is  hush  and  still. 

The  lake  lies  sleeping  at  my  feet. 
Yet  not  the  landscape  to  mine  eye 

Bears  those  bright  hues  that  once  it  bore. 
Though  evening,  with  her  richest  dye. 

Flames  o'er  the  hills  of  Ettrick's  shore. 

With  listless  look  along  the  plain, 

I  see  Tweed's  silver  current  glide. 
And  coldly  mark  the  holy  fane 

Of  Melrose  rise  in  ruin'd  pride. 
The  quiet  lake,  the  balmy  air, 

The  hill,  the  stream,  the  tower,  the  tree, — 
Are  they  still  such  as  once  they  were  ? 

Or  is  the  dreary  change  in  me  ? 


304  LYRICAL  PIECES. 

Alas  !  the  warp'd  and  broken  board. 

How  can  it  bear  the  painter's  dye  ? 
The  harp  of  strain'd  and  tuneless  chord, 

How  to  the  minstrel's  skill  reply  ? 
To  aching  eyes  each  landscape  lowers, 

To  feverish  pulse  each  gale  blows  chill ; 
And  Araby's  or  Eden's  bowers 

Were  barren  as  this  moorland  hill. 

A    WEARY    LOT    IS    THINE,    FAIR    MAID. 

"  A  weary  lot  is  thine,  fair  maid, 

A  weary  lot  is  thine  ! 
To  pull  the  thorn  thy  brow  to  braid, 

And  press  the  rue  for  wine  ! 
A  lightsome  eye,  a  soldier's  mien, 

A  feather  of  the  blue, 
A  doublet  of  the  Lincoln  green, — 

No  more  of  me  you  knew. 

My  love  ! 
No  more  of  me  you  knew. 

"  This  morn  is  merry  June,  I  trow, 

The  rose  is  budding  fain  ; 
But  she  shall  bloom  in  winter  snow. 

Ere  we  two  meet  again." 
He  turned  his  charger  as  he  spake. 

Upon  the  river  shore, 
He  gave  his  bridal-reins  a  shake. 

Said,  "Adieu,  for  evermore, 

My  love ! 
And  adieu  for  evermore." 


LYRICAL  PIECES.  305 


COUNTY  GUY. 


Ah  !  County  Guy,  the  hour  is  nigh. 

The  sun  has  left  the  lea, 
The  orange  flower  perfumes  the  bower. 

The  breeze  is  on  the  sea. 
The  lark,  his  lay  who  thrill'd  all  day, 

Sits  hush'd  his  partner  nigh ; 
Breeze,  bird,  and  flower,  confess  the  hour. 

But  where  is  County  Guy  ? 

The  village  maid  steals  through  the  shade. 

Her  shepherd's  suit  to  hear, 
To  beauty  shy,  by  lattice  high, 

Sings  high-born  Cavalier. 
The  star  of  Love,  all  stars  above, 

Now  reigns  o'er  earth  and  sky ; 
And  high  and  low  the  influence  know — 

But  where  is  County  Guy  ? 

LOVE-WAKES  AND  WEEPS. 

Love  wakes  and  weeps 

While  Beauty  sleeps  ! 
O  for  Music's  softest  numbers, 

To  prompt  a  theme 

For  Beauty's  dream. 
Soft  as  the  pillow  of  her  slumbers  ! 

Through  groves  of  palm 
Sigh  gales  of  balm, 


306  LYRICAL  PIECES. 

Fire-flies  on  the  air  are  wheeling ; 

"While  through  the  gloom 

Conies  soft  perfume, 
The  distant  beds  of  flowers  revealing. 

O  wake  and  live  ! 

No  dream  can  give 
A  shadow'd  bliss,  the  real  excelling ; 

No  longer  sleep, 

From  lattice  peep, 
And  list  the  tale  that  Love  is  telling. 

farewell!  farewell!  the  voice  you  hear. 

Farewell  !  Farewell !  the  voice  you  hear, 
Has  left  its  last  soft  tone  with  you,— 

It  next  must  join  the  seaward  cheer, 
And  shout  among  the  shouting  crew. 

The  accents  which  I  scarce  could  form 
Beneath  your  frown's  controlling  check, 

Must  give  the  word,  above  the  storm. 
To  cut  the  mast,  and  clear  the  wreck. 

The  timid  ej''e  I  dared  not  raise, — 

The  hand,  that  shook  when  press'd  to  thine 

Must  point  the  guns  upon  the  chase. 
Must  bid  the  deadly  cutlass  shine. 

To  all  I  love,  or  hope,  or  fear. 
Honor,  or  own,  a  long  adieu  ! 


LYRICAL  PIECES.  307 

To  all  that  life  has  soft  and  dear, 
Farewell !  save  memory  of  you ! 

THE  LAY  OF  POOR  LOUISE.* 

Ah,  poor  Louise  !  The  livelong  day 
She  roams  from  cot  to  castle  gay  ; 
And  still  her  voice  and  viol  say, 
Ah,  maids,  beware  the  woodland  way. 

Think  on  Louise. 

Ah,  poor  Louise!  The  sun  was  high, 
It  smirch'd  her  cheek,  it  dimm'd  her  eye, 
The  woodland  walk  was  cool  and  nigh, 
Where  birds  with  chiming  streamlets  vie 

To  cheer  Louise. 

Ah,  poor  Louise  !  The  savage  bear 
Made  ne'er  tliat  lovely  grove  his  lair; 
The  wolves  molest  not  paths  so  fair — 
But  better  far  had  such  been  there 

For  poor  Louise. 

Let  poor  Louise  some  succor  have  ! 
She  will  not  long  your  bounty  crave, 
Or  tire  the  gay  with  warning  stave — 
For  Heaven  has  grace,  and  earth  a  grave 

For  poor  Louise. 

*  This  lay  has  been  set  to  beautiful  music  by  a  lady  whose 
composition,  to  say  nothing  of  her  singing,  might  make  any 
poet  proud  of  his  verses,  Mrs.  Robert  Arkwright,  born  Miss 
Kemble. 


308  LYRICAL  PIECES. 


AN  HOUR  WITH  THEE. 


An  hour  with  thee  ! — When  earhest  day- 
Dapples  with  gold  the  eastern  gray, 
Oh,  what  can  frame  my  mind  to  bear 
The  toil  and  turmoil,  cark  and  care, 
New  griefs,  which  coming  hours  unfold, 
And  sad  remembrance  of  the  old  1 — 

One  hour  with  thee ! 

One  hour  with  thee  ! — when  burning  June 

Waves  his  red  flag  at  pitch  of  noon ; 

What  shall  repay  the  faithful  swain. 

His  labor  on  the  sultry  plain  ; 

And  more  than  cave  or  sheltering  bough. 

Cool  feverish  blood  and  throbbing  brow? — 

One  hour  with  thee  ! 

One  hour  with  thee  ! — When  sun  is  set, 

O,  what  can  teach  me  to  forget 

The  thankless  labors  of  the  day; 

The  hopes,  the  wishes,  flung  away ; 

The  increasing  wants,  and  lessening  gains. 

The  master's  pride,  who  scorns  my  pains  ? — 

One  hour  with  thee  ! 


309 


SELECT  MOTTOES  AND  IMAGES. 


Give  us  good  voyage,  gentle  stream — we  stun  not 
Thy  sober  ear  with  sounds  of  revelry; 
Wake  not  the  slumbering  echoes  of  thy  banks 
With  voice  of  flute  and  horn — we  do  but  seek 
On  the  broad  pathway  of  thy  swelling  bosom 
To  glide  in  silent  safety. 

Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Death  finds  us  'mid  our  playthings — snatches  us, 
As  a  cross  nurse  might  do  a  wayward  child, 
From  all  our  toys  and  baubles.     His  rough  call 
Unlooses  all  our  favorite  ties  on  earth : 
And  well  if  they  are  such  as  may  be  answer'd 
In  yonder  world,  where  all  is  judged  of  truly. 

Ibid. 

We  are  not  worst  at  once — the  course  of  evil 
Begins  so  slowly,  and  from  such  slight  source, 
An  infant's  hand  might  stem  its  breach  with  clay; 
But  let  the  stream  get  deeper,  and  philosophy — 
Ay,  and  religion  too, — shall  strive  in  vain 
To  turn  the  headlong  torrent. 

Ibid. 


310  SELECT  MOTTOES  AND  IMAGES. 

The  course  of  human  life  is  changeful  still 

As  is  the  fickle  wind  and  wandering  rill  ; 

Or,  like  the  light  dance  which  the  wild-breeze  weaves 

Amidst  the  faded  race  of  fallen  leaves; 

Which  now  its  breath  bears  down,  now  tosses  high, 

Beats  to  the  earth,  or  wafts  to  middle  sky. 

Such,  and  so  varied  the  precarious  play 

Of  fate  with  man,  frail  tenant  of  a  day  ! 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

A  grain  of  dust, 

Soiling  our  cup,  will  make  our  sense  reject 
Fastidiously  the  draught  which  we  did  thirst  for  ; 
A  rusted  nail,  placed  near  the  faithful  compass, 
Will  sway  it  from  the  truth,  and  wreck  the  argosy. 
Even  this  small  cause  of  anger  and  disgust 
Will  break  the  bonds  of  amity  'mongst  princes. 
And  wreck  their  noblest  purposes. 

Talisman. 

Yon  patli  of  greensward 
Winds  round  by  sparry  grot  and  gay  pavilion ; 
There  is  no  flint  to  gall  thy  tender  foot. 
There's  ready  shelter  from  each  breeze,  or  shower. — 
But  duty  guides  not  that  way — see  her  stand 
With  wand  entwined  with  amaranth,  near  yon  cliffs. 
Oft  where  she  leads  thy  blood  must  mark  thy  footsteps. 
Oft  where  she  leads  thy  head  must  bear  the  storm. 
And  thy  shrunk  form  endure  heat,  cold,  and  hunger  ; 
But  she  will  guide  thee  up  to  noble  heights, 
Which  he  who  gains  seems  native  of  the  sky. 


SELECT  MOTTOES  AND  IMAGES.  311 

"While  earthly  things  lie  strelch'd  beneath  his  feet, 
Diminish'd,  shrunk,  and  valueless — 

TVoodstock. 

The  deadliest  snakes  are  those  which,  twined  'mongst 

flowers. 
Blend  their  bright  coloring  with  the  varied  blossoms. 
Their  fierce  eyes  glittering  like  the  spangled  dew-drop  ; 
In  all  so  like  what  nature  has  most  harmless, 
That  sportive  innocence,  which  dreads  no  danger. 
Is  poison'd  unawares. 

Ibid. 

There  are  times 

When  Fancy  plays  her  gambols,  in  despite 
Even  of  our  watchful  senses — when  in  sooth 
Substance  seems  shadow,  shadow  substance  seems — 
When  the  broad,  palpable,  and  marked  partition, 
'Twixt  that  which  is  and  is  not,  seems  dissolved, — 
As  if  the  mental  eye  gain'd  power  to  gaze 
Beyond  the  limits  of  the  existing  world. 
Such  hours  of  shadowy  dreams  I  better  love 
Than  all  the  gross  realities  of  life. 

My  Aunt  Margaret'' s  Mirror. 

A  mirthful  man  he  was — the  snows  of  age 
Fell,  but  they  did  not  chill  him.     Gayety 
Even  in  life's  closing,  touch'd  his  teeming  brain 
With  such  wild  visions  as  the  setting  sun 
Raises  in  front  of  some  hoar  glacier. 
Painting  the  bleak  ice  with  a  thousand  hues. 

Anne  of  Geier stein. 


312  SELECT  MOTTOES  AND  IMAGES. 

The  way  is  long,  my  children,  long  and  rough — 
The  moors  are  dreary,  and  the  woods  are  dark ; 
But  he  that  creeps  from  cradle  on  to  grave, 
Unskill'd  save  in  the  velvet  course  of  fortune, 
Hath  raiss'd  the  discipline  of  noble  hearts. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

"  Why  sit'st  thou  by  that  ruin'd  hall. 
Thou  aged  carle  so  stern  and  gray  ? 
Dost  thou  its  former  pride  recall. 
Or  ponder  how  it  passed  away  ?" — 

"Know'st  thou  not  me  !"  the  Deep  Voice  cried  ; 
"  So  long  enjoy'd,  so  oft  misused — 
Alternate,  in  thy  fickle  pride, 

Desired,  neglected,  and  accused  ? 

"  Before  my  breath,  like  blazing  flax, 
Man  and  his  marvels  pass  away  ; 
And  changing  empires  wane  and  wax, 
Are  founded,  flourish,  and  decay. 

"  Redeem  mine  hours — the  space  is  brief — 
While  in  my  glass  the  sand-grains  shiver. 
And  measureless  thy  joy  or  grief. 

When  Time  and  thou  shall  part  for  ever !" 

Antiquary. 


THE  END. 


9  ik^^ 


/ 


L  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

ty  of  California,  San  Diego 


DATE  DUE 

SINT 

Ml  ^  H  M^ 

AUG  1  5  1988 

CI  39 

UCSD  Libr. 

